


eye of storm

by Dawn_Blossom



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: (like how lucina goes by marth in canon), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Possession, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Grima is Robin, M/M, Time Travel, Well universe travel anyway, and he made a deal with grima, basically fe13 but instead of lucina it's sad chrom coming back, but grima's plans go entirely wrong in the world-saving kind of way, follows the game's plot except it ends after gangrel, future!chrom goes by 'anri' to distinguish him from past!chrom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 49,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22107196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/Dawn_Blossom
Summary: Chrom wins his war, but Robin dies to Gangrel. If he helps Grima get a body of his own, the god promises to bring Robin back.It isn't as though he has a lot of options, anyway.
Relationships: Chrom/Gimurei | Grima, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Future!Chrom & Past!Robin
Comments: 66
Kudos: 282





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New decade, same otp. I hope you didn't think fe3h made me forget about Chrom/Grima. I will NEVER be over these two.
> 
> Title is from [Gravity of Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4PUoHV1PsA) by Enigma. It fits the story, but like, metaphorically. Out of context, "eye of storm" is also a pun, as you'll see very quickly.
> 
> Anyway, uh, I've been working on this fic for over a year (albeit with some significant breaks...) so I'm very excited to finally get to post it. It's never going live up to what I dreamed it could be, but well, that's just how writing always goes. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

“Sire,” King Validar of Plegia greets. His voice is smooth and silky, a far cry from how the Mad King Gangrel seemed always to be on the verge of cackling. Validar, despite his sunken eyes and ashen face, comes across as completely composed. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“The honor is mine, good king,” Chrom says. He does not care particularly for the exchange of polite greetings, but he has practiced them for so many years that he can rattle them off when he needs to. He searches the man’s face for any sign of hostility, but there are no cracks in Validar’s mask of diplomatic neutrality. And yet… “Is it possible that we’ve met before somewhere?”

He cannot shake the feeling that he has seen this man before. It would not be surprising if he had; the war with Gangrel had stretched on for so long, had led Chrom so far across the continent, that he may well have crossed paths with every damn person in the country.

“Oh no, I’m quite certain that I would remember any encounter with Ylissean royalty,” Validar says. Perhaps it is the truth, or perhaps the Plegian king merely wishes to put the war behind them. Chrom is willing to let the matter go, though, hazy as his memory is anyway.

But then Validar continues.

“Perhaps you are more familiar with my son,” he says. “I do believe the two of you met.”

“You have a son?” Chrom asks. This is news to him; nothing he had read in preparation for visiting Plegia had suggested that Validar had a family at all.

“Had,” Validar corrects. “HAD a son. He was lost to the recent war between our nations.”

“Oh…” So much for putting the war behind them. “I’m… sorry.”

“I should imagine you are,” Validar says. “If I’m not mistaken, you have yet to find a replacement tactician.”

“Robin can’t be rep—” Chrom’s breath catches. “Robin… Robin was your son?”

“He never told you?” Validar asks. “How odd. Rumor had it that you two were practically of one mind.”

Chrom can barely understand the words coming out of Validar’s mouth, too caught up in the wave of agony washing over him. This always happens when he thinks too much of Robin. It has been over a year since his tactician’s death, but the pain still comes fresh every day. It hurts even worse than the loss of Emmeryn, for all of Ylisse mourned their leader, and Chrom could do nothing but avenge her. But this pain belongs to Chrom alone; not even the other Shepherds can truly understand the bond that he lost. Robin was a comrade to all of them, but to Chrom, he was… even dearer. In peacetime, Chrom’s feelings have no outlet, and worst of all, he is constantly aware of the horrible injustice fate has dealt to Robin. How could the man who won them their peace not live to share in it?

“Gods, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I never wanted him to die for me. For Ylisse. I… I owe him, he…”

Someone clears their throat. Frederick, probably, trying to force him to get himself together. But he can’t, not now, not while he’s standing here in front of King Validar of Plegia, accountable for not only thousands of Plegian deaths but for Robin… If he were a decent exalt at all, he would have saved Robin…

“Yes, strange how fate has so connected us through him.” Validar’s words ring distantly in his ears. “This is unusual of me, I will admit, but perhaps… Well, to put it plainly, we keep a memorial to him. I would have you now accompany me to visit it, if you have time for the diversion. It may do us both some good.”

“Yes,” Chrom says immediately. He cannot pass up any opportunity to pay his respects to Robin. And maybe, if the Exalt of Ylisse and the King of Plegia mourn in common… their countries can move forward into the future together.

“Milord,” Frederick says quickly. “Perhaps you might wait until morning. Surely the travel has left you exhausted…”

“No, Frederick,” Chrom says. “This will not take long. And I am sure King Validar and I both will rest far better afterward.”

Frederick frowns, but he cannot disobey the Exalt.

“Of course,” he says. “Then I will accompany you.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” Validar says. “The memorial is deep in a sacred place. We do not allow just anyone to enter. Exalt Chrom is an exception. The dragon blood within him will grant him passage.

“You mean Naga’s blood?” Chrom glances down at the brand on his shoulder. “Why does that make a difference? And forgive me, but why would Robin be in a place requiring dragon blood to enter?”

“Lord Grima does not trust mere humans in his domain,” Validar says. “As for what Robin is doing there… I’m sure you can figure it out. Naga is not the only dragon who knows how to make blood pacts.”

“You…” Chrom’s eyes widen in understanding. “You have the fell dragon’s blood…”

And so did Robin. It makes sense, then, why he never told Chrom… Even now, he is uncomfortable at the thought. The fell dragon is evil incarnate. The fell dragon would have destroyed the entire world if not for Naga and the first Exalt. But none of the stories had ever mentioned Grima having a champion of his own, or of them having a bloodline descending into the present.

It seems odd, given the stories he knows, that Grima would ever ally himself with a human. And furthermore, what kind of person would ally themself with the destroyer of the world? Chrom would assume the worst of them… Or at least he would have, if he had not known Robin,

Robin had fell blood… If he were here, Chrom would tell him that he doesn’t care. He is uncomfortable with the legends of the fell dragon, and he is uncomfortable with the thought of praying for the end of the world. But none of that changes the way he feels about Robin.

“Perhaps Princess Lissa ought to go with you, then,” Frederick says. “Her blood is of Naga as well.”

“And she is but a Princess,” Validar says. “Not the Exalt.”

“You mean to say that you—”

“Frederick, just stop,” Chrom says, taking a step closer to Validar. “This is personal to both of us. Can’t you understand?”

Frederick frowns.

“I do, milord,” he says. His eyes darken, and Chrom remembers with a flash of guilt that Frederick surely misses Robin as well. “But you must realize what this looks like. The ruler of a foreign nation is sequestering you away in a place where the fell dragon apparently holds power.”

Chrom grimaces. He can see the potential trap… But even so…

“If we do not trust each other, our countries will never truly be at peace,” he says. “And if Plegia wants another war, better we find out now. Frederick, you are a better fighter than me. If I die in this place, I trust you to lead the army in my stead. If that is not enough to deter an attack tonight, then surely there is nothing in this world that would suffice.”

“If you have made your decision,” Validar murmurs, “then come. Let us not leave his spirit waiting.”

They walk deeper into the heart of the castle without further conversation. The halls are eerily quiet for a royal residence, though Chrom supposes it makes sense if there is truly a holy place at the center. Indeed, he feels much as though he were traveling to one of Naga’s temples. Even in Ylisse’s bustling capital, the temples always provide peace and quiet.

In the silence, Chrom can hear even the sound of his own breathing. He can hear Validar’s, too… and he can hear as it becomes more and more ragged. By the time they come to a stop, it sounds as though Validar is struggling to breathe at all.

“Are you alright—” Chrom tries to ask, but Validar raises a hand to quiet him.

“The door,” Validar says. “Place your hand on the door. Lord Grima… will grant you entry.”

Chrom glances at the wall behind them. It doesn’t much resemble a door. But when he looks back at Validar, the man has already removed his glove and placed his own palm against the wall. Chrom follows suit.

Slowly, the wall begins to glow with a faint purple light. A symbol flashes on the formerly plain wall—Chrom barely glimpses it before it fades away again, but even he recognizes the eyes of Grima that feature so prominently in Plegian culture.

Validar lets out a loud hiss, and then suddenly, there is indeed a door where there once was nothing.

“Blood magic…” Chrom murmurs. Validar does not respond, but he presses his other hand against his clearly bloodied palm, and that is answer enough. A chill slides down Chrom’s spine. It is not as though he is unfamiliar with the concept. After all, were it not for Naga’s blood in his veins, he would be unable to wield the Falchion at all. But Naga’s blood has never hurt him, while Grima’s blood has clearly just done Validar injury…

Chrom looks down at his own unmarred hand and wonders why the magic did not take his blood as well. And yet he is relieved, for he knows that dark mages can perform all sorts of nefarious curses if they happen to have access to their intended victim’s blood. Frederick would have chided him for placing his hand there at all. Gods, _Robin_ would have chided him. Chrom’s throat clenches at the thought. Robin was always trying to look out for him, and look where it got him. 

But it’s far too late for Chrom to listen to the sensible echoes of Robin’s speeches. Validar gestures for him to enter, and so he heads forward with a pounding heart. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for what he’s going to see.

“My destiny...” Validar mutters quietly. “Fulfilled, finally…”

“I’m sorry, what?” Chrom can barely hear Validar, and what he can pick up doesn’t make much sense.

“Hush,” Validar commands. “He’s just ahead.”

“Robin?” Chrom can’t help but quicken his pace. He just wants to see the memorial. He just wants to find peace.

“Yes…” Validar’s whisper suddenly turns to a loud laugh.

The harsh sound rings in Chrom’s ears as he steps forward into a room lit by fire magic. But there is nothing in front of him. There is no body, not even an effigy. There is no casket, no urn, no gravestone, not even flowers or books or anything that could be seen as an offering. There is just a single symbol on the floor. It is again the eyes of Grima.

“Where is he?” Chrom demands. He stares at ground as though he can find the truth in the symbolic eyes. Perhaps something will activate if Validar gives it blood, like what happened with the wall.

The idea sits uneasily with him. If the marks are sacrificial sigils, just what takes place in this room?

“Where is Robin?” Chrom demands yet again. It doesn’t make sense. If Validar were trying to kill him, he could have shot him in the back with dark magic by now. But if this is truly a memorial, then someone ought to tell his childhood tutors that their knowledge of Plegian customs was all wrong.

“Can’t you feel it?” Validar is back to whispering. “His power is all around…”

Chrom pauses. The air is thick and heavy, but try as he might, he can’t feel anything special about it. If it’s really Robin’s power, why can’t he recognize it? Robin was no ordinary soldier; his strength was intoxicating, his magic enrapturing. Chrom can still see it perfectly in his mind. He could never forget it, could never mistake it… But Validar is either telling the truth or is the world’s best actor, because the king’s knees buckle as though under great force.

And yet Chrom doesn’t feel anything different.

“Robin,” he pleads, “if you’re there… please…”

“I knew you would come.”

Chrom blinks, taking a step forward. The sound is coming from Validar’s mouth, but the words sound a little different, like the man has suddenly acquired a new accent.

Validar lifts his head, and Chrom suddenly freezes in his tracks. Validar’s eyes are a dull gold, but the eyes Chrom is now looking into are a deep, vibrant ruby.

“I thought it might take more than a name alone,” the red-eyed being continues. “But you’re SO determined to put yourself in danger, aren’t you?”

“What is… _Who_ are… Why did you bring me here?” Chrom struggles to ask. He has a million questions he’d like the answers to, but he needs to know whether he’ll have to win them with his blade or not.

“Because I can give you what you want,” the being continues. “I can give you Robin back.”

Chrom opens his mouth in shock, and it takes him a moment to form words.

“ _How?_ ” he asks, unable to keep the hope out of his voice. He would do anything to bring Robin back to life if it’s possible. But… “Only the gods have enough power to restore the souls of the dead to their bodies.”

And Naga won’t bring the dead back to life. It is a painful truth that everyone has no choice but to accept. Powerful mages have spells to _commune_ with the dead, but raising the dead is an impossible task.

“Come now, Chrom.” The smile that stretches across Validar’s face is unlike anything the man has ever given. “You must know who you’re talking to. Who else could bring the king of Plegia to his knees?”

Chrom grimaces. It’s not a hard conclusion to reach, but there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to admit it. But if it will save Robin…

“You’re Grima, aren’t you...” he says quietly. “Plegia’s god…”

“Correct,” Grima says, sounding amused.

This isn’t at all how Chrom expected to meet the fell dragon. In truth, he hoped to never meet the god at all, for surely no man _wants_ to fight amidst the world’s destruction. But if he was going to meet Grima, he would have expected it to be in a fight to the death. Why has he been given an offer instead?

“What are you asking for in exchange?” he asks. The stories do not tell of an altruistic god (though they _do_ tell of a bloodthirsty monster who should have taken Chrom’s head by now, so perhaps they are not perfect accounts.)

“Your body.” Grima says. “For a short time, at least. My vessel in this world has been destroyed. I know how to get another, but it requires human cooperation. I need to possess you, but only until I can get into a body of my own. It won’t take more than a few days.”

Chrom frowns.

“And what’s wrong with HIM?” he asks, gesturing to Validar’s currently possessed body. 

Grima sneers.

“Many things,” he says. “But chief among them is his deteriorating body.”

“Deteriorating?” Chrom’s eyes widen. “His breathing…”

“He fatigues easily, and it’s only getting worse,” Grima agrees. “I need someone in good health.”

“Okay…” Chrom pauses in thought. “But why ME? Don’t you have other followers? I’m supposed to be your enemy!”

As he says it, it occurs to him that Grima might be doing this _because_ they are supposed to be enemies. Gods, if he lets the fell dragon possess his body, who knows what he would do with it! And Chrom would be unable to stop him.

“From the look of horror on your face, I take it you’ve realized how terrible an idea it would be for you to agree.” Grima smirks. “While I’m glad to see you’re capable of critical thinking, you shouldn’t worry. You’re going to do what I say anyway.”

“You can’t expect me to help you destroy the world!” Chrom insists. “That’s why you need a body! You can’t do anything as a spirit, but if I help you… Oh, gods…”

“I promise not to destroy YOUR world,” Grima says. “Why, that practically makes you a hero. Your little sister and your friends will be safe. I’ll even send you back here when I’m done with you.”

“Here? MY world?” Chrom frowns. “Are you saying there’s another?”

“There are many worlds,” Grima says. “It’s no great difficulty to travel between them. Even a human could do it, if they were particularly powerful.”

“So you want me to set you loose on some other innocent world?” Chrom scowls. “I can’t do that. I’d be killing all those people…”

“You’ll be killing YOURSELF if you don’t,” Grima says. “Even in this body, I can get rid of you in an instant. You only have two choices, Chrom. You can leave this room with me or not at all.”

He says it casually, but his eyes seem to glow a little brighter, a little more threatening. 

Chrom brushes a hand against the hilt of the Falchion. It’s not as simple as Grima is suggesting; he can and will fight until his dying breath. But the sword alone isn’t enough to defeat Grima for good. He would have to first find the Fire Emblem, then perform a ritual that he can’t immediately recall all the steps for… Gods, he isn’t prepared for this! He’s never been prepared to save the world! He was barely able to defeat _Gangrel,_ and that victory was only secured with Robin’s sacrifice…

Robin. His heart aches yet again. If only Robin were here, Chrom is sure he would have some brilliant strategy to get out of this mess. It always seemed like he could do the impossible. Chrom bets he would even be able to find away to beat the fell dragon himself.

If only Robin were _here._

Chrom closes his eyes.

“You swear upon your life that you’ll bring back Robin?”

“He’ll be right there next to you,” Grima agrees. “I promise. And unlike humans, I do not make and break my promises on a whim.”

“And it will be THIS world’s Robin?” Chrom continues. “The one I know?”

Grima chuckles.

“The very same soul.”

It’s not as difficult a decision as it should be. So what if Grima gains a vessel in another world? Surely there is another version of him out there who can stop the destruction just as the legends foretold. The truth is that Chrom isn’t sure he can even lead his country without Robin at his side. Slaying a god would be impossible… Especially here and now, while he’s staring into the fell dragon’s eyes in the heart of Plegia Castle. He is all alone, and he is powerless.

“I’ll help you,” he says at last.

This way, he will save his world, and he will save Robin, and some other world’s heroes will merely have to face fate sooner rather than later.

Chrom opens his eyes. Grima is closer to him than he was before, and he takes a step back in surprise. Grima, however, follows him.

“It’s going to hurt,” Grima says, gripping onto Chrom’s shoulders. “But remember who you’re doing it for.”

Chrom looks into Grima’s eyes. He wonders if his will glow the same bright red when Grima possesses him.

“Go ahead, then,” he says. Grima’s eyes glow brighter, and then…

He screams.

His body has never before been _invaded_ in this way. It feels as though someone else has forced their way inside his skin, only it is far too tight a fit for both of them. Instinctively, something inside him begins to struggle, to push, to try to expel whatever beast has crawled inside him. But then…

 _’Stop… fighting me…’_ a voice with a familiar accent echoes in his mind.

Chrom tries. He clenches the fabric of his shirt between his fists, though it does nothing to relieve the pain. But Grima warned him it would hurt. He wasn’t lying. And if he was telling the truth about this, then maybe there’s a possibility he meant what he said about Robin, too. Chrom would gladly suffer anything for Robin’s sake. And surely this is nothing compared to what Robin felt at his death, to the pain of being ripped asunder with an electrified Levin Sword. Chrom deserves at least that much agony, for the attack was meant for him in the first place. Robin should not have died, and Chrom should have. And Grima promised that Robin will live. He doesn’t _want_ to push Grima out; he _needs_ Grima there. He needs Robin. He wants… He wants…

_’There. Breathe…’_

Even without Grima’s command, Chrom wouldn’t be able to stop the sigh that escapes him as the pain recedes. It still doesn’t feel _right;_ it’s almost as though he’s eaten too much and on the verge of expelling his guts in the aftermath. But it’s tolerable at least, and he confirms that he can move his body around without difficulty. 

“My… Lord?” Validar groans. He had apparently slumped to the floor following Grima’s departure from his body, but he now picks himself up with only a grimace. “Was the transfer successful?”

“Obviously.” The words come out of Chrom’s mouth accented, and they certainly didn’t stem from his consciousness. “If it hadn’t worked, I would be back with you.”

“That’s so strange,” Chrom says.

Validar’s brow furrows.

“You still have control of the body?”

“He has a stronger will than you,” Grima says.

Validar seems to accept this explanation (though Chrom supposes that he would not argue against the fell dragon in any case), for he merely nods.

“It explains your appearance,” he says. “Your right eye is red, my lord. The left… remains blue.”

“Interesting,” Grima says. 

Chrom feels his lips curl into a smirk, and he wonders if he can stop it. Immediately, his expression turns into a frown.

“So we both have control…” he says. He raises a hand to his face. If his right eye is red, Grima is obviously possessing him. He doesn’t believe that the fell dragon would _willingly_ share anything with him, so it must mean…

 _’I have no need to fight you so long as you obey me,’_ Grima snaps mentally. Disturbingly, he has responded to a thought that Chrom didn’t complete. Chrom doesn’t like the idea of his mind being read, especially when he can’t perceive anything on Grima’s side…

 _’You hold no special knowledge that I’m not already aware of,’_ Grima’s mental voice turns dismissive. _’Though you, obviously, cannot comprehend the mind of a god.’_

 _’Cannot? Or am not allowed to?’_ Chrom challenges.

 _’You are too weak to stomach what you would find,_ Grima insists. _’Do you want to see true hopelessness?’_

For a moment, Chrom’s mind is filled with a gruesome picture. Dying bodies lie on a field of dying grass, the sky above is dark with clouds, the wind howls…

It’s a bitter scene. But it’s hardly the worst thing he’s ever seen. His own memory provides a sight much harder to bear. The grass turns to dirt, the wind turns to cruel laughter, and the unknown bodies morph into faces that Chrom knows by name. And at the front of it all lies Robin, his heart pierced through by the sword of an evil king. Chrom remembers how clearly he felt time stop when he saw it. _That_ was hopelessness, for though he had to keep up the fight for his people, he knew that even a peaceful world would never again be _right._

 _’... It’s pathetic how easy it is to manipulate you.’_ Grima’s voice dispels the image.

Chrom bites back a growl, though he supposes it doesn’t really matter; Grima must be able to sense his irritation. He knows he’s playing right into the fell dragon’s hand! But he will never be ashamed for caring about Robin. His pride is worth nothing compared to Robin’s life.

“My lord…” Validar coughs. “Shall I perform the ritual at once?” He gazes into Chrom’s right eye… or should he call it Grima’s eye? Now that Grima is sharing his body, Chrom gets the feeling that he has ceased to exist to Validar.

“Before you keel over, yes,” Grima says.

 _’You were already prepared…’_ Chrom is struck again by the feeling that he is just a pawn in a larger game. The setup was so carefully done that he had no choice but to move the way Grima wanted him to. In a way, it’s almost familiar. Robin had the same talent, the same incomprehensible ability to force the enemy to play by his rules…

Of course, Robin was not _his_ enemy. Chrom isn’t used to being the disadvantaged one.

“Come,” Validar says, grasping Chrom’s right arm. It is a gentle, guiding grip, and it is again clear to Chrom that Validar is holding onto his god, not the Ylissean exalt.

Validar leads them to the center of the symbol on the ground. From his cloak he pulls a thick tome with the same mark on it. Chrom has never seen a spellbook like it, but Grima obviously does not share Chrom’s curiosity. They’ve barely glanced at the book when Grima nods solemnly.

“Do it now,” he commands.

Immediately, magic begins to whirl around them. Chrom will admit that Validar is the most skilled sorcerer that Chrom has ever seen. Incantations fly from his mouth faster than Chrom can even keep up with. But despite the dark magic pooling in the air above them, Grima isn’t satisfied.

“You have to use more power!” Grima snaps. “Do you think opening a rift in space and time is child’s play?”

Validar lets out a noise that sounds far more like a groan than affirmation, Chrom looks at the man, his ashen skin glistening with sweat, his sunken eyes fixed unblinkingly ahead, his chest heaving…

 _’You’re going to kill him,’_ he thinks with horror. He holds no particular love for the king of Plegia, but to see him break himself like this goes against his basic sense of humanity.

 _’He deserves it.’_ Grima’s words do not make the situation any better. 

Though Validar looks half-dead already, he extends an arm out and casts some other spell. Tendrils of magic curl around his flesh, and suddenly there is blood dripping down his skin and onto the floor. His magic goes haywire in response, and the swirling vortex of power coalescing across the ceiling changes from a cloudy gray to a deep purple color.

“Gods…” Chrom whispers. He wonders if Validar can even feel what’s happening to him anymore. Blood continues to drip down, but the man continues to chant excitedly.

The floor beneath them begins to glow white. Chrom can feel his body growing heavy. He finds himself sinking to the ground, as though gravity has somehow intensified. It’s difficult to move or even to think like this. 

_’If he were doing it right, you wouldn’t feel it at all,’_ Grima informs him.

And that is the last thing Chrom understands before his consciousness falls away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chrom wakes to the bright light of a sunny, cloudless sky. Based on the shadows cast by nearby trees, he supposes it’s about midday. He must have lost track of time. Robin won’t like it; they don’t have any time to waste in this war…

Oh. 

There is no war anymore. And there is no Robin, either.

 _’Tell me this isn’t how you wake up every time,’_ Grima’s irritated voice rings out in his mind.

Chrom does not respond, but he draws himself up into a sitting position. His muscles ache from lying on the ground for who knows how long, but he no longer feels weak and heavy like he did during the ritual.

 _’I guess it worked, then…’_ he thinks. _’Did Validar send us to another world like you wanted?’_

 _’He managed it.’_ Grima nevertheless sounds displeased. _’With his dying breaths, most likely. I almost believed he would fail me.’_

Chrom frowns. Validar sacrificed himself for Grima, but the god doesn’t seem at all appreciative. It feels so unfair for his devotion to be rewarded with death.

Chrom feels himself growling, and it takes him a second to realize that it’s Grima’s doing.

 _’Before you go feeling sorry for the fool,’_ Grima thinks, _’you might want to know that he murdered your sister.’_

 _’What?’_ Chrom’s heart clenches. _’Lissa? But how? She was with Frederick the whole time, and Validar was with us!’_

 _’Not that one,’_ Grima thinks. _’Emmeryn.'_

It takes Chrom a moment to fully understand, to actually appreciate what Grima is telling him. And then he feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

 _’It was the former king’s men,’_ he thinks. _’It was King Gangrel’s orders…’_

 _’It was Validar’s plan,’_ Grima thinks. _’Moreover, he cast the spell that killed her. He wanted to take the Fire Emblem from her. You see, he thought the Fire Emblem would give him more power and allow him to hasten my return. He was selfish and absorbed with achieving his own goals. Your sister’s death served no purpose whatsoever; she was simply collateral damage. Now, do you still feel the need to waste your time pitying the abominable creature? After all, he won.’_

Validar won. What a crushing thought. But Emmeryn is dead, and Grima is alive… Even if Validar did forfeit his own life, he’s still accomplished more than Chrom has.

 _’Why did you tell me this?’_ he thinks miserably. He does not want to think any more about Validar. It wasn’t hard to meet the man’s gaze when he hadn’t known those same eyes had watched Emmeryn bleed out in her final moments.

 _’It’s the truth.’_ No sympathy shows in Grima’s tone. _’No matter how you feel about it.’_

There’s no comfort to be found in Grima’s words. In the back of his mind, Chrom recalls that the fell dragon is also known as _the Wings of Despair._

Slowly, Chrom gets to his feet, careful not to strain his muscles and risk aggravating the leg injury that he’s never fully recovered from. The original wound was courtesy of Emmeryn’s assassins, and he supposes that he was just collateral damage, too.

 _’Alright. Where are we going?’_ he asks after a moment. He recognizes his surroundings as being a couple days’ walk from Ylisstol, and he desperately hopes that they aren’t headed there. Helping Grima at all is bad enough, but if the fell dragon expects him to turn his sword against his own people, he’s sorely misunderstood Chrom’s limits.

 _’I’ll spare you the sight of your city reduced to rubble,’_ Grima thinks, though his words in themselves cause Chrom to imagine the horrendous scene. _’I’m looking for a person. He should be… Yes, here he comes through the trees.’_

Chrom whirls around at the sound of rustling leaves, expecting to see some devout Grimleal, perhaps even Validar himself. Instead, his eyes fall upon a face he knows better than his own.

“Robin?” He whispers. Of course, the man is still too far away to hear him. “Robin!” he shouts louder. 

He stumbles forward, tripping over his own legs in his haste to get closer. He doesn’t know if this is the Robin of his world or this new one, but it hardly matters to him in the moment. Robin is here and alive.

 _’Get me into contact with his skin,’_ Grima commands. Chrom barely hears the words, and he can’t say for sure whether it is he or Grima who actually captures Robin’s hands.

“Robin, I—” Chrom stops abruptly at Robin’s terrified look. Oh gods, does Robin not recognize him? He’s about to pull back and try to explain when suddenly, a weight is lifted from him, and Robin begins to scream.

“Robin!” Chrom shouts. “Robin, no! Grima, what the hell are you doing to him?”

It’s obvious that Grima must be trying to possess Robin… But why? Isn’t that what Chrom is supposed to be here for?

“Get out of him!” he demands, moving to grip Robin by the shoulders. He fears that Robin will flail and hurt himself if he doesn’t. He’s obviously trying to fight off Grima’s intrusion, just as Chrom had at first… But unlike Chrom, Robin hasn’t had any warning, nor does he have any reason to submit. If Grima fights to subdue him, who knows what kind of damage he’ll take! And what if he fights to the death? Chrom can’t let him die _again._

“Gods, I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t hurt him!” he pleads. “Please, stop! Just stop! You know he’s everything to me! Let him go!”

Robin, for his part, manages to grit his teeth and stop screaming. But it’s obvious that he’s still in terrible agony. He hasn’t given in to Grima at all.

“No… I’m not…” Robin groans. “I don’t… I don’t want…”

Robin shudders violently, and then… He slumps forward into Chrom’s arms.

“Oh, gods…” Chrom murmurs. Robin is entirely unconscious, but he is alive. Where does that leave Grima?

He gets his answer a moment later when he again feels pain boiling inside him. It doesn’t hurt as much as the first time, and he has little difficulty staying upright even while supporting most of Robin’s weight. He has half a mind to fight Grima this time, but he refrains, if only because Grima possessing him is far preferable to him possessing Robin. Still, he cannot hide his anger, nor does he want to. 

_’You tricked me…’_ he thinks furiously. _’I said I’d help you get a new body, not take over Robin’s! You lied to me!’_

 _’Well of COURSE I tricked you!’_ Grima thunders back. _’No one does anything for the fell dragon if he just asks nicely! But I never lied to you, Chrom. I told you I knew how to get a new vessel. It isn’t my fault you never asked for further details.’_

Guilt gnaws at Chrom’s stomach. True, he never asked Grima how he planned to get a new body… But he had assumed that Grima, the fell _dragon,_ was seeking a dragon body of his own and not a new human body to possess.

 _’Why do you need him at all?’_ Chrom asks. _’What’s wrong with using me? I’ve already given you my permission…’_

 _’Nothing, for now,’_ Grima responds. _’But I have no desire to spend the rest of my existence as a parasite, nor as a spirit. The body you’re so tenderly cradling right now is the key to my life…’_

Chrom frowns, peering down at Robin’s innocent expression. If he’s still in pain from Grima’s attack, he doesn’t show it. But he must surely be exhausted from the ordeal, and Chrom has no way of knowing when he will wake. Chrom is going to have a lot to explain when he does…

 _’Is it because he shares your blood?’_ That’s what Validar said, that both he and his son share Grima’s blood just as Chrom shares Naga’s. _’Can’t we just go find Validar? Is he ill in this world, too?’_

 _’I have no desire to possess Validar again,’_ Grima sounds almost disgusted. _’Though… I suppose there is a way he could be of use. But we still need Robin. If I have Robin’s blood and Validar’s resources, I can make myself a new vessel on my own. And… Robin… will not have to cooperate.’_

So an alternative exists… Chrom sighs. Really, it’s the only option. He would sooner run himself through with the Falchion than let Grima use him to hurt Robin. He doesn’t like that it will require Robin’s blood, but surely it is the less costly price… 

Still...

 _’How are you going to make the new vessel?’_ he asks. He’s learned from his previous mistake.

 _’With alchemy,’_ Grima answers simply. _’Don’t fear for his sake. It won’t affect him at all.’_

Alchemy is a dead art, but Chrom supposes it isn’t too surprising that an ancient god would still know it. Chrom isn’t familiar enough with it to know if Robin will truly be in danger or not. But he _knows_ Robin will be in danger if Grima takes hold of him.

 _’Then we’ll head to Plegia,’_ he concedes. _’Though we must rest first. Look at him.’_

Even in his mind, the words sound accusatory. It is, after all, Grima’s fault that Robin is in such a condition.

 _’Oh, and one more question,’_ he continues. _’This is the Robin of this world, right? So, er… Where exactly is mine?’_

Grima promised that he would bring Robin back, after all… If it was a lie…

 _’I haven’t forgotten,’_ Grima thinks. _’But you haven’t fulfilled the conditions of our agreement yet.’_

Chrom supposes it’s fair… But he has never been a patient man. He misses his tactician so badly that it aches, and he cannot even share his present troubles with his most trusted confidante, for that title too belongs to Robin.

 _’You’ll get more done if you stop thinking so much about him,’_ Grima snaps. _’And besides… You need to focus on winning over this one.’_

Grima removes one of Chrom’s hands from Robin’s back to point at Robin’s still-closed eyelids.

“I’m so sorry, Robin..” Chrom whispers. “I won’t let you get hurt again.”

 _’He can’t hear you,’_ Grima points out. _’Save your platitudes for when he might listen to them.’_

 _’You’re right,”_ Chrom thinks. _’But I… or rather YOU, but he won’t know that… attacked him out of nowhere. I want him to feel safe now.’_

 _’It would be helpful if he didn’t try to kill us on sight,’_ Grima, in his own way, agrees.

Carefully, Chrom maneuvers Robin so that he can pick him up. It’s somewhat uncomfortable, but Chrom doesn’t have to walk very far to get back to the treeline. There’s a stream nearby that flows with fairly clean water, and it’s close to its banks where Chrom gently sets Robin down again. Chrom himself rests his back against a large rock. He has lead his army through these very woods before, though it was not nearly so peaceful back then. He’s glad to see his men didn’t destroy the place.

 _’Yet,’_ Grima thinks. _’They haven’t destroyed it YET. This world’s present is essentially our world’s past. The war you led hasn’t even been declared.’_

 _’It hasn’t?’_ Perhaps that’s why the air feels so calm. He’s so used to the terrible tension of war. Nowhere is truly safe when you call entire peoples your enemy. Far as it is from the Plegian border, there are still plenty within Ylisse who would claim loyalty to Plegia, just as they found many in Plegia willing to side with Ylisse. It’s hard to know who you can trust.

Suddenly, he scoffs. It comes from Grima.

 _’You’ve never actually concerned yourself with that. You put your trust in everyone,’_ Grima thinks. _’And you don’t see betrayal coming until it’s too late. That strategy will get you killed sooner or later.’_

Chrom doesn’t respond. Grima isn’t the first to admonish him for this. His tutors, Frederick, Lissa, even Robin… They’ve all told him similar things. He wonders if Grima is looking through his memories, or if it’s just such an obvious feature of his personality that even the fell dragon would notice it immediately.

 _’You’re a very straightforward man,’_ Grima thinks.

Chrom isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be an answer or not.

For the next couple of hours, Chrom tries his best to relax. He needs to remain alert, of course, both to protect Robin and to watch for his return to consciousness, but he doesn’t want to exert himself too much. Once Robin wakes up, they’ll need to go to Plegia. Convincing Robin to go with him will probably be hard enough. Actually making it to the Plegian capital will be even harder, especially with Chrom being so clearly Ylissean…

 _’Your Brand,’_ Grima thinks suddenly. _’If you get attacked, you have to make sure the enemy doesn’t uncover it. It could get you in trouble’_

Chrom nods. His great lord armor currently covers the brand on his arm, and it would take quite a hit to damage it. Gone are the days when he would brandish it openly; his youthful pride in his bloodline is gone, replaced with duty and honor and, he’ll admit, no small amount of bitterness. He is an exalt out of necessity, but never in a million years would he have chosen this role.

Grima does not respond to this train of thought, and Chrom spends longer than he probably ought wallowing in the painful contrast of his life before and after the war. He’s so deep in thought that when he hears Lissa’s voice, he first assumes that he’s imagining it.

“Hello! Hey, you there! Hello?”

Chrom looks up to see his sister waving at him. She’s still sporting the bright cleric’s outfit that she favored before moving onto more subdued sage’s robes. Having got his attention, she approaches him with a spring in her step.

“Hi there!” she greets. “Is everything alright? I noticed your friend here lying on the ground… Do you need a healer?”

“Er…” Chrom glances down at Robin, who really doesn’t look _that_ bad, but… “Maybe?”

 _’Maybe?’_ Grima echoes incredulously.

“Maybe?” Lissa asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“I don’t know exactly what’s, er… wrong with him,” Chrom quickly continues. 

“Okay, um…” Lissa bends down, raking her eyes over Robin’s form. “He looks like he’s just sleeping. Did something happen to him?”

“Well…” Chrom’s hands begin to feel clammy. “It’s hard to explain, but…”

“Lissa, you can’t just run off!” 

Chrom is saved from having to concoct an explanation by the arrival of two additional people. Unfortunately, those two additional people are Frederick and… himself.

Damn.

He feels more than mild panic when he meets the eyes of his younger self. He’s several years older, his hair is longer than it used to be, his sense of fashion has changed, and of course he now has one red eye, so it’s not exactly like looking into a mirror. It is, however, extremely jarring, especially when he has no idea how he’s going to explain his way out of this situation.

“Er, are you alright?” The younger Chrom asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lissa says in her sweet, comforting way. “We’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help. Can you tell us what’s wrong?”

“I…” Chrom looks down. “Robin’s the one who passed out…”

“Robin, huh…” Lissa stands up a little straighter. “Hey, Chrom, can you pass me your bag? We have to do SOMETHING.”

The younger Chrom moves closer to his sister. “He isn’t bleeding or anything. What do you propose we do?”

“I dunno…” Lissa murmurs. She’s still fairly new at healing, and though Chrom has never excelled in any magical classes, he assumes that even her royal tutors can’t have prepared her for possession-induced unconsciousness.

Before anyone can say anything further, they hear a faint groan come from the ground. Immediately, Chrom’s gaze snaps to Robin’s face, and he can see the exact moment Robin’s eyes flutter open.

It’s all Chrom can do to keep himself from pushing past the Shepherds of this world and take Robin into his arms again. If he were close enough, he might have done it anyway, propriety be damned. But as it is, the younger Chrom beats him to the punch.

“I see you’re awake now,” he says, smiling. “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. Here, give me your hand.”

Robin blinks, still clearly disoriented, but he shows no fear as he grabs the younger Chrom’s hand and gets pulled to his feet.

“You alright?” the younger Chrom asks.

“Y-Yes…” Robin smiles hesitantly. “Thank you, Chrom.”

Chrom’s heart skips a beat. This world’s Chrom hasn’t met Robin before, has he? Chrom met Robin in Southtown when they both independently came to the burning town’s aid, but Southtown is at least an afternoon’s walk away from here…

Grima offers him no explanation.

The younger Chrom, for his part, looks similarly surprised.

“Ah, then you know who I am?” he asks.

Robin freezes.

“No…” he says slowly. “Actually, I… It’s strange… Your name just came to me.”

The younger Chrom blinks.

“Hmm, how curious,” he says after a pause. “Tell me, what’s your name? What brings you here?”

“My name is…” Robin frowns. “It’s…”

“Robin,” Chrom supplies.

Robin’s eyes light up.

“Yes, that’s it! My name is Robin! Thank you, um…” He searches Chrom’s face, but clearly nothing comes to him. “I’m sorry… Do I… Do I know you? Or, I guess… Do you know me?”

Robin doesn’t remember being attacked, then. And he didn’t know his own name until Chrom said it. Did he really lose his memory? Did Grima’s failed possession do that to him?

 _’Interesting…’_ Grima thinks. _’He was too weak to handle it…’_

“I’m…” Chrom’s throat tightens with guilt. This is all his fault. “I’m… your bodyguard.”

He’s going to do everything in his power to protect Robin going forward. If Grima disagrees…

 _’I need him alive,’_ Grima thinks. _’Our goals are not incompatible.’_

“O-Oh!” Robin’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect… Did I seriously hire a bodyguard?”

“Not exactly,” Chrom says. “It’s more like… I swore to protect you...”

“Oh, I get it!” Lissa says. “You’re like Frederick!”

“Er, well…” Chrom averts his gaze. “I’m not exactly a royal knight, but… I suppose it’s somewhat similar.”

“So YOU know who milord and milady are,” Frederick says, narrowing his eyes. Like always, he catches every detail. “And might I ask what YOUR name is?”

“R-RIght…” Chrom stammers, which probably isn't winning him points in Frederick’s book. “My name is, ah…”

Obviously he can’t say that it’s Chrom. Gods, he wishes Grima would chime in with a good idea right now… But alas, the fell dragon apparently wants Chrom to improvise.

“... Anri,” he ends up saying. 

“After the ancient king?” the younger Chrom asks.

“... Yes. My parents were well-versed in Ylissean history.” It’s practically sacrilege for him to say it, though. How dare he compare himself to the founder of the Kingdom of Altea? He has not even a fraction of the man’s courage. And yet, in times of his deepest despair, stories of the great leader brought him comfort. For even though King Anri lived out his life separated from the woman he loved, he still built up his kingdom to become one of the strongest known to history. He never let his woes drag him down.

… Yes, Anri was certainly a stronger man than him.

“Well, Anri, I don’t suppose you could tell us what you and Robin were up to, could you?” the younger Chrom suggests. “Where are you headed, where are you coming from, and has anyone given you any trouble?”

“Er… We’re…”

 _’Headed to Ylisstol from Themis,’_ Grima supplies. _’We encountered some bandits and successfully fled from them, but the exhaustion got to Robin, causing him to pass out in the afternoon.’_

 _’Oh, NOW you help?’_ Chrom—that is, Anri; he had better start remembering his alias lest he accidentally respond to the wrong name—thinks irritatedly, but he faithfully recites Grima’s alibi aloud.

“Themis…” Frederick mutters, frowning. “Haven’t there been reports of Plegian brigands causing trouble around there lately?”

Lissa nods.

“Maribelle’s been complaining about it. Her father’s getting blamed for not stopping it.”

Frederick glances suspiciously between Anri and Robin.

“Do you truly expect us to believe the two of you?” he asks. He points to Robin. “YOU claim to have retrograde amnesia, which is a load of pegasus dung when you clearly remember milord’s name.” He points to Anri. “YOU have been giving us short, undetailed or evasive answers to our questions.” He crosses his arms. “And you also claim to come from a place rife with border trouble. You claim to have fled bandits, but you show no injuries typical of fighting. You could not have given a less convincing story! Now, I suggest you start telling us the truth at once!”

“But it is the truth!” Robin exclaims. “My amnesia is, I mean. And Anri doesn’t FEEL like a liar…”

 _’You’re telling the truth about him,’_ Grima thinks. _’He did come from Themis. His mother crossed the Plegian border with him about ten years ago, though they crossed back over a few times over the years. But they were in Themis when a band of brigands killed his mother. She took the hit for him. He fled down here to lose them, but was planning to follow the road back to Ylisstol as soon as it was safe.’_

Anri spares a moment to mourn for Robin’s mother. Her son may not be able to remember her, but Anri, at least, will honor the sacrifice she made so that Robin would live. In this world, he will make sure it wasn’t in vain.

“What if it IS true, Frederick?” Chrom asks. “That’s a lot to go through, and Anri does look exhausted. We can’t just leave them out here exposed to further attack! What kind of Shepherds would we be then?”

Frederick nods.

“Just the same, milord, I must emphasize caution. It would not do to let wolves into our flock.”

Anri wouldn’t expect anything less from Frederick, who is not called “the Wary” for no reason. Still, it feels strange to receive anything less than full trust from the faithful knight. Though it’s obvious that he can’t expect to be treated like a member of the House of Ylisse anymore, he has to fight back the instinctive hurt that Frederick would ever think him a threat to his country.

“Right then,” Chrom says. “We’ll take them back to town and sort everything out there.”

“Wait just one moment,” Robin says, frowning. “Do we get a say in this?”

“Peace, friend.” Chrom raises his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “I promise we’ll hear everything you have to say back in town. Besides, if what your friend says is true, you were going to Ylisstol, anyway. It’s on the way.”

Robin glances at Anri, who nods in what he hopes is a reassuring way. It’s clear that they _don’t_ have a choice, and though they really ought to be heading to Plegia now, there’s no good way to explain the change in plans.

“Okay…” The frown doesn’t leave Robin’s face, but he doesn’t protest further. Though they make their way out of the woods and onto the road as a group, it’s obvious that Robin is staying as close to the edge as he’s allowed to. 

“Are we to be prisoners?” he whispers to Anri.”I… I don’t want to be locked up…”

Anri shakes his head.

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” he whispers back. “Once they’re satisfied we mean no harm, they’ll let us be on our way.”

“On our way where?” Robin’s voice rises a bit in frustration. “To Ylisstol? Where IS that? Where are WE? I can’t recall anything about people or places. It’s like my mind’s been wiped blank…”

“I… am so, so sorry,” Anri says. Looking into Robin’s golden eyes, he hopes he conveys the absolute sincerity with which he feels those words. “You must assume I’m a terrible bodyguard, but… I won’t fail in my duty to you any more. I’ll explain the entire world to you if you need, just… Please, trust me.”

“Trust?” Robin holds Anri’s gaze. “You’re just a stranger to me. And yet…” He tilts his head. “For some reason, I feel like I should.”

“In my experience, your instincts have always been right,” Anri says.

“Ha! Easy for you to say,” Robin says. “But I suppose I don’t have much else to rely on. So, uh… You can get started on explaining the world, if you’d like.”

And so that’s exactly what Anri does. He’s never been in a position of knowing more than Robin before, but despite the strange role reversal, he can’t help but be reminded of old times.

 _’How can you want to destroy these people?’_ he thinks. _’How can you look at them all, so innocent, and actually want them gone...?’_

He expects the fell dragon to respond, probably in a way that he won’t like. He even tries to formulate a defense. Something about how moments of peace should be cherished. 

But Grima remains utterly silent.


	3. Chapter 3

They’ve been walking for several hours when Lissa suddenly stops in her tracks.

“Chrom, look!” she exclaims, looking out into the horizon. “The town!”

Anri follows her gaze. Smoke is rising in the air, and he quickly realizes that the orange glow near the skyline is not merely from the setting sun.

“That’s… Southtown…” he murmurs. “Oh, gods. Southtown is on fire!”

_’Again,’_ he thinks.

_’The only difference between this world and ours is that we are now interfering in it,’_ Grima thinks. _’Fate will still deal its hand.’_

“Those blasted brigands, no doubt…” Chrom mutters, drawing his sword. “Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!”

“What about them?” Frederick asks, gesturing back at Robin and Anri.

“Unless they’re on fire as well, it can wait!” Chrom insists, already starting to dash forward. Lissa and Frederick follow immediately after him.

“But what about—” Robin starts, but it’s clear that the others aren’t listening. He turns to Anri with a sigh. “And… They’ve left us.”

Anri can appreciate his younger self’s reasoning, but he can also see how easy it would be to ambush them from behind if he and Robin were so inclined. Still… He can’t say he doesn’t want to run off as well. All those townspeople…

“Hey…” Robin says. “You don’t have to follow me, but… I’m going to catch up with them.”

“You want to fight,” Anri says. Of course he does. That’s just how Robin is.

“I have a tome and a sword hidden under my coat,” Robin says. “I have to do something. It’s not fair. Those brigands have no right to threaten innocent lives.”

“Then let’s go,” Anri agrees. “We still have time to save them all!”

They reach the Shepherds just as they reach the town’s entrance. Frederick gives them a wary glance, but Robin doesn’t take notice, instead heading straight for Chrom.

“Robin! You followed us here?” Chrom’s eyes widen. “Why? I thought you… Er, to be frank, I thought you would have escaped at the first opportunity.”

“I… I’m not certain myself,” Robin says. “It’s just… a feeling. And Anri seems to think my instincts are good. All I know is that I’d like to fight, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course!” Chrom agrees. “Strength in numbers. Just stay close to us. You too, Anri!”

Anri is barely listening. The entire battlefield is just as he remembers, right down to the positions of the Plegian brigands. How many years has it been for him? He was just a youth back then, the war with Plegia not yet having taken its toll on his mind and body. This battle, he remembers, was difficult for him at the time. Now, however, he can see the enemy’s inexperience. They are not trained soldiers, though he suspects that Gangrel is probably paying them to stir up trouble in Ylisse. Anri is sure he could take even the leader down with just a few hits.

But if this world is like his own, then…

“Anri, are you alright?” Robin demands. “I want you to stay away from the front lines. Chrom and I can handle it.”

“I have to check the buildings,” Anri says abruptly. “There are still people in there. I… I have to go!”

“Okay.” Robin nods. “We’ll keep the brigands away from you. Just… be careful.”

Anri doesn’t think twice about it. With Robin’s approval, he dashes off towards the line of houses where he knows, he _remembers_ a family lives.

The building in question is already on fire when he gets there. Flames lick at the roof and upper story, and when he approaches the door, he can hear a baby’s wail.

The door’s lock is already broken, and it nearly comes off its hinges when Anri swings it open. A woman standing by the stairwell flinches back.

“S-Stay back!” she shouts, taking a step closer to the already burning stairs. The baby in her arms cries even louder.

“Milady, I’m not a brigand,” Anri says gently. “Please… I’m here to help you. You need to come outside. It’s not safe in here; the whole place is going to collapse!”

The woman’s eyes widen with fear, and she shoots a glance at the stairs behind her.

“But my son is still up there!” she exclaims. “I… I can’t... “

“I’ll go to him!” Anri says, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “But you need to go! Now!”

He tugs her, and she stumbles forward unthinkingly. 

“My son…” she repeats.

“Think about the child in your arms!” Anri snaps. He pushes her towards the door, and finally, she responds properly. Only when she is completely outside does Anri turn his attention to the stairwell.

_’What are you doing?’_ Grima demands. _’Get out of there before you’re crushed to death!’_

_’But her son is still here,’_ Anri thinks. He remembers finding three bodies the last time around. _’I promised her…’_

He takes a step forward. Then, unwillingly, he takes a step back.

_’Don’t,’_ Grima insists.

Grima starts moving them backwards, closer to the door. Anri grits his teeth and, simultaneously, tries to walk forward.

Pain overwhelms him, sending him falling to the floor. 

_’Stop fighting me!’_ Grima screams. _’We don’t have time for this!’_

_’You stop fighting ME!’_ Anri thinks through the haze of pain. It’s even worse than the initial possession. Now, Grima isn’t trying to share. _’There’s a life at stake!’_

_’Yes, and it’s yours!’_ Grima’s anger tears a growl from Anri’s throat. _’Listen to what’s going on around you! Do you hear crying? Screaming? Terrified calls for a mother? The child is probably already dead!’_

Anri pauses, and so does the pain. True, he can’t hear anything, but the boy could just be unconscious, or too scared to move, or…

Above him, the ceiling shifts. An ember falls to the ground.

Immediately, Grima has them on their feet. Anri, still feeling horrified at the thought of the child already being lost, does not fight him again as he forces them out the door.

“Where is he?” Anri can barely look at the distraught woman in front of him. “My son! Where’s my son?”

A crash behind Anri forces his attention back to the house… and to its roof crashing down.

“No!” the woman screams. “No! No!”

Anri places his hand once more upon her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says from the bottom of his heart. It isn’t good enough.

_He_ isn’t good enough. Even knowing what was going to happen, he _still_ couldn’t save that child. What’s the point of having knowledge of the future if he can’t even make use of it?

_’What’s the point?’_ Grima echoes furiously. _’There is none! You aren’t here to save children from burning buildings! You are here for ME, to serve ME, to listen to ME. Forget about saving anyone!’_

_’I can do both,’_ Anri insists. _’’Do your bidding and still save people. There’s no reason not to help when I’m already there.’_

_’You were going to die,’_ Grima thinks. _’That’s not serving me. I will NOT take on another servant because you’re too stupid to know when things aren’t within your control.’_

Anri is prevented from further protest by the arrival of Robin and the Shepherds.

“Anri, there you are!” Robin exclaims. “What happened? You look like you can barely stand…”

“It seems that you were right, though,” Chrom says. “There were still people in their homes…”

The woman, the now-grieving mother, lets out a sob.

“Her son was still inside,” Anri admits. He watches four faces fall in unison.

“Oh…” Lissa steps forward. “You poor thing… And your baby, too… Let me look over you.”

Lissa takes them aside, leaving Anri with only the memory of her tears.

“So we were too late…” Chrom murmurs. “I think we saved the rest of the townspeople, but…”

“I tried,” Anri says, closing his eyes. “Gods, I tried…”

“You did everything you could!” Robin says. Anri blinks his eyes back open to see Robin right beside him. “If you hadn’t gone when you did, we might not have saved those other two.”

“He’s right,” Frederick says. “The brigands were going to kill everyone who got in their way. You still saved two lives from death’s clutches.”

“You’re a hero today, Anri,” Chrom says. “And so are you, Robin. Gods, the way you fought… I lost count of how many bandits you took out…”

“I just followed my instincts,” Robin says. “Anri, you were right. They’re… something else. I must have been trained in tactics, because the things I can sense…”

“You were incredible,” Chrom says. “We would have had a much harder battle without you.”

Anri can see the sparkle of interest in Chrom’s eyes. Of course he’s interested. Anri can remember the first time _he_ saw Robin fight, right here in Southtown. He wielded thunder like he was himself a force of nature. “Incredible” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

It takes another half hour, but Lissa eventually rejoins the group, satisfied that none of the townspeople have any lasting injuries… of the physical sort, anyway. The town’s mayor offers to hold a feast in their honor, but Frederick quickly declines. It’s a relief to Anri, who isn’t at all in a mood to celebrate. It isn’t as though he isn’t used to death; gods, his own blade has taken the lives of thousands of people whose only sin was fighting at the orders of their king. And of course, in leading a war, he’s sacrificed many of his own people to the fight as well. But it was all strictly necessary, a tragedy of wartime and nothing else. Everyone knows what the costs of war are. But the battle today was different, just a skirmish that likely will never be recorded in history. There was no warning for it; neither the people nor the crown could have realized in advance that the brigands would attack when they did.

But Anri knew. Anri knows a lot about the unpredictable events that will define the next several years for Ylisse. The future is unknowable, but the past has already happened. And this world is but the past of his. If he could find a way to prevent things before they happened here...

_’No,’_ Grima thinks. _’That’s NOT what you’re here for. We just went over this.’_

_’If things are like our world, a war with Plegia is almost inevitable now,’_ Chrom thinks. _’If we join the cause, we’ll make it to their capital eventually. It will be safer if we go with the army, too. And this world’s Chrom is clearly going to ask Robin to be his tactician. Look at them now.’_

Robin walks between Chrom and Anri, but it is Chrom who has occupied his attention for the longest time. 

“Don’t worry too much, Robin. Frederick only smiles when he’s about to bring down the axe,” Chrom jokes.

“Duly noted.” Robin smiles.

“You do realize that I AM still present?” Frederick says from behind them.

“Oh, we realize,” Chrom says cheerfully.

Robin laughs easily, showing not even a trace of the fear he felt before. Anri has always believed that bonds forged on the battlefield lead to the truest friendships, but the speed and ease with which he became friends with Robin always felt… different. Robin _belongs_ with the Shepherds, belongs on the battlefield right next to Chrom. There are many things Anri wants to interfere with in this world, but that bond isn’t one of them.

And sure enough, later that night, after the others are asleep in their tents, Robin comes to Anri.

“Chrom wants me to be the Shepherds’ tactician,” he says. “I told him I’d think about it. I… I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You want to do it,” Anri says. It isn’t a question; he knows the Robin of his world hadn’t even hesitated to take the offer.

“Yes, but…” Robin fidgets. “Where does that leave you? I don’t want to just abandon you, but…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Anri says. “I promised to protect you, and I will.”

“It’s not as though I can remember that,” Robin says. “Look, you don’t… You don’t owe me anything. So if you’re here out of obligation, you… You don’t have to be, okay?”

“It’s not duty that keeps me at your side,” Anri assures him. “I chose to be here. I care about you. And that’s why I’ll follow you, wherever it is you may go.”

“I see…” Robin’s brow furrows pensively. “So, then… Are you going to join the Shepherds too?”

“I…”

_’Grima?’_ he thinks. He won’t be able to stand it if he has to fight the fell dragon for control of his body all the time. The pain would be too much.

_’At this point, it’s easier than kidnapping him,’_ Grima thinks. _’And I DO enjoy a good war every now and then. I wouldn’t mind seeing that king meet a gory end.’_

_’Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind killing Gangrel again, either.’_ Anri regrets most of the casualties he caused. But he will never regret ridding the world of that cruel, evil man. _’And sooner, too.’_

Grima’s laughter echoes in his mind, and Anri wonders what it says about him that he can actually _agree_ with a world-destroying god. Of course, it’s not the _world_ Anri wants to destroy. It’s just one man. One man who deserves far worse than a sword to his chest.

_’You’re deluded, that’s all,’_ Grima thinks. _’Open your eyes and you’ll see that humanity itself is the source of evil. I have never done anything the world hasn’t asked for.’_

“I’ll join the Shepherds,” Anri says aloud, trying to push Grima’s thoughts out of his mind. The fell dragon likes to play tricks; he already knows that. “It’s the right thing to do. We can help more people this way.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Robin smiles at him. “This is a great opportunity, I think. And… I…” 

Even in the dim candlelight, Anri can see the light flush creeping onto Robin’s face.

“I’m glad you’ll be here with me…” Robin continues.”I know you didn’t expect to be burdened with an amnesiac, but… Well, thank you for everything. I’d be a lot more lost in the world without your help.”

“It’s not a burden at all,” Anri insists. “I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, Robin. But for me, well… Not that much has changed. Memories or no, you’re still the same person inside.”

“You think highly of me,” Robin says.

“I certainly do.” Anri can’t think of a single person he would put more faith in.

“Then I’ll try to make sure it’s deserved.” Robin smiles slightly, taking a step back. “You’ve looked exhausted all day, and I don’t want to keep you up any longer. So… Goodnight, Anri.”

“Goodnight, Robin.” In his own world, he and Robin rarely parted at night, late-night strategy always occupying them until one or both of them would fall asleep. But now, he must get used to being alone.

Well, almost alone.

_’Goodnight, Grima,’_ he thinks. _’What are you going to do while I sleep? Do… Do you have to sleep? What’s it like possessing someone else?’_

_’That’s none of your concern,’_ Grima thinks. _’Stop pestering me and go to sleep.’_

_’Fine,’_ Anri thinks exasperatedly. _’Then sweet dreams, or whatever the equivalent is for you.’_

It doesn’t take him long to drift into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

“So this is Ylisstol…” Robin looks around, wide-eyed. “I know you said it’s the capital, but… wow. I didn’t expect there to be so many people. I guess I thought it would be a bit… calmer… this close to a castle.”

“Calm?” Chrom chuckles. “Peaceful is one thing, and we do try to cultivate peace. But we’d hate for the city to feel all stuffy and formal just because some royals happen to live nearby.”

“It would be so boring if everything was quiet!” Lissa agrees. “People from all over the world come here! It’s like one big lively party all the time!”

“It wasn’t always quite this bustling. Lady Emmeryn has strived to make Ylisstol a cultural epicenter,” Frederick says. “Her work is truly commendable.”

“Hey, look!” Lissa points. “Here she is now!”

“The exalt has come to visit the people!” a man cries out from somewhere ahead of them. An excited murmur rises in the already noisy streets as people stop what they’re doing to look for her.

Anri looks up just as Emmeryn steps into a sunbeam. His breath catches. He had forgotten just how beautiful, how graceful his older sister always was. She wears a kind smile on her face as she waves to her beloved people, and despite being surrounded by a great crowd, she still manages to project an aura of peace and love.

“That’s your ruler? Emmeryn?” Robin tilts his head. “Is it safe for her to walk among commoners like this?”

“She’s a symbol of peace,” Chrom says. “And with Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her now more than ever. She’s a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war.”

Anri grits his teeth. His sister tried so hard to keep the peace. Nothing that happened was her fault. She was always willing to stand down, to talk things out… If only Gangrel hadn’t been unreasonable, greedy, ruthless, and bloodthirsty…

...If only Anri himself had been quicker, or stronger… or smarter. The assassins got the better of him that day. If he hadn’t been more or less out of commission, he could have saved his sister. 

Well, it will be different this time. He looks again at the contours of Emmeryn’s smile, at the gentle crinkle of her caring eyes. She waves to him—or more likely, to Chrom beside him, but Anri sees it all the same—and his heart clenches. She is the nation’s lifeblood, its soul, its hope. He has never been a suitable replacement for her. Now, in this world, he’ll make sure that there will not need to be another exalt.

“It looks like she’s returning to the palace,” Chrom says, and indeed, Emmeryn is starting to turn away. She walks slowly, still taking time to greet all the people who express their adoration of her. Chrom turns to face Robin and Anri, and he smiles. “Would you like to meet her?”

“She’s your sister, right?” Robin at first seems perfectly happy, but then panic suddenly flashes in his eyes. “Wait, but she’s also the _Exalt of Ylisse!_ A-Am I decent? Is there some kind of formal ceremony I’m supposed to do? I don’t know how to speak to royalty!”

“You’ve been speaking to Lissa and I just fine,” Chrom points out.

“Well, I… That’s because…” Robin flushes. “It’s not that I don’t RESPECT you as royalty, it’s just that under the circumstances we met… See, first Anri had to inform me you were royalty, and then next thing I knew we were fighting together, and afterwards it just seemed, uh...”

“Oh, relax,” Lissa says. “We’re not that formal, and Emm isn’t either. She’s WAY nicer than Chrom, you know!”

“I find that hard to believe…” Robin says, glancing at Chrom.

Chrom laughs.

“It’s true. Emm has the heart of a saint.” He shoots Robin a reassuring smile. “She’s going to love the both of you. You did save our people, after all.”

And Emmeryn, indeed, greets them with her typical grace.

“From what Chrom says, it sounds like Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude.” She smiles first at Robin, then at Anri. But as she searches Anri’s face, something gives her pause. “Forgive me… what do you call yourselves, again?”

“Robin, milady,” Robin says. His gaze shifts towards Chrom like he’s seeking approval.

“It’s… Anri.” Anri’s pulse quickens under Emmeryn’s scrutiny. She can’t recognize him, can she? Lissa and Chrom did not. But Emmeryn always had the most acute sense of all of them, and Anri has never attempted to seriously fool her before.

“I see…” Emmeryn nods slowly. “Then thank you, Robin and Anri. It seems it was quite the stroke of fortune that my brother met you when he did.”

“It was,” Chrom agrees. “They fought bravely with us against the brigands. I’ve decided to make both of them Shepherds.”

Emmeryn hums. She does not, however, protest, nor does she study Anri any further. Anri breathes a small sigh of relief.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak,” Frederick says, striding forward to stand next to Chrom. “Anri claims that he and Robin fled south after encountering bandits at the border. Robin claims to have lost his memory, and therefore can neither corroborate nor contradict that story. However, their claims are just that—mere claims. We cannot rule out the possibility that they are brigands themselves, or even Plegian spies.”

Anri hears Robin’s breath catch, and when he turns his head, Robin appears absolutely stricken.

“Frederick!” Chrom exclaims.

“He didn’t mean it personally,” Anri whispers soothingly into Robin’s ear. “He has a duty to report every potential threat.”

“I know, but I…” Robin’s whisper becomes even quieter. “I thought they already knew we meant no harm.”

“And yet you allowed them into the castle, Chrom,” Emmeryn says calmly. “Do these men have your trust?”

“Yes,” Chrom says firmly. “They risked their lives for our people. That’s good enough for me.” He shoots a pointed look at Frederick. Anri agrees with his younger self, and yet he cannot truly fault Frederick for his skepticism. 

_’Techncially, I AM harboring the fell dragon,’_ he thinks.

_’That is not a crime,’_ Grima thinks. _’I haven’t done anything to them.’_

The “yet,” Anri merely infers. Again, he feels a wave of guilt. But after seeing Chrom and Robin meet in this world, he is even more sure that they will find a way to prevent Grima from doing harm on their own.

“Well then, Robin, Anri…” Emmeryn smiles. “It seems you’ve earned Chrom’s faith, and as such you have mine as well.”

“Milady,” Robin half-bows.

“Thank you…” Anri says. The trust she has placed in Chrom warms his heart, but it also burns. He never appreciated her faith in him enough when she was alive. In a world where siblings often turn against each other out of fear or jealousy, he, Emmeryn, and Lissa were fortunate to have such an unwavering bond.

But in the end, that bond did not save her. Perhaps she should not have placed as much faith in him as she did.

“Now that we’ve settled that,” Emmeryn continues. “Chrom, we are about to hold council. I was hoping you could join us.”

“Of course,” Chrom says, but he does not smile. Anri knows the dread he must feel. He has always found meetings to be horrible, and that did not change even upon becoming the exalt. Unfortunately, there is no other way to keep the halidom running. It was not so bad when he had Robin to keep him company, but…

It was worse without him. Meetings were no longer just dull, but also _lonely._

“I guess that’s our cue!” Lissa says. “Hey, you two, come with me! There’s a place I want to show you!”

“Is it our quarters?” Robin asks.

“What? No, the guys would kill me if I walked in on them!” Lissa says. “Chrom can show you that later. I want you to meet some people!”

… It’s the Shepherds. She introduces them to the other Shepherds. Anri can’t help but feel a little nostalgic, seeing them all so young. Though many more members had joined the Shepherds’ ranks over the course of the war, he’s always had a special place in his heart for his childhood friends. Gods, the whole thing used to be so lighthearted. Shepherds tending sheep, what a joke it seems now. But though they may have all started as kids playing along with his visions of heroism, they rose admirably to every challenge his leadership forced them through.

“Hey, what’s with the strangers?” Vaike shouts from across the room. Sumia spins around so quickly that she trips over herself.

...So they’re still a little rough around the edges. Anri raises a hand to his lips to stifle a chuckle. They’ll grow into fine soldiers, though he hopes that they will not have to suffer as much in this world as they did in his own.

“Vaike, don’t be rude!” Lissa shouts back. “Come here and you can meet our new Shepherds! These guys are heroes who stepped in to help us even though we didn’t ask them to! The short one here is Robin, and the tall one is Anri!”

“S-Short one?” Robin exclaims. “I’m taller than you!”

Lissa waves her hand dismissively. 

“The SHORTEST one of us is Ricken, but he’s probably studying right now,” she says. “And look, no offense, but you’re tiny next to Anri. Seriously Anri, you’re not going to tell me you’re actually a twig under that armor, are you?”

“Er… no.” Anri flushes lightly. If he were younger, he might be proud to show off his muscles. But the truth is, it has nothing to do with vanity; he’s had to work harder around his lasting battle injuries.

“Well, my figure is better for agility,” Robin says, crossing his arms. 

“That’s why he’s lightning on the battlefield,” Anri adds in Robin’s defense. Robin shoots him a grin in response.

“Oh yeah? You two think you’re a bunch of big shots?” Vake, now standing beside Lissa, puffs out his chest. “But can you do this?”

He lets out a long, loud burp. It’s a challenge if Anri’s ever saw one, but it isn’t one that he or Robin are inclined to accept.

“Nobody is impressed by your lowbrow buffoonery, you know” Maribelle says, brushing a lock of her hair behind her neck. “Right, everyone?”

“It was kind of impressive…” Robin says.

Maribelle glares at him.

“Well,” she huffs, “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any better from someone who clearly hasn’t heard of bathing.”

Anri winces. He had forgotten how biting Maribelle could be towards new people.

“We’ve been on the road for quite a while,” he says defensively.

“Yeah, Maribelle, even I’m all covered with buggy bits,” Lissa says, scrunching up her face. 

Maribelle turns up her chin.

“Hmph!” She turns away then, practically stomping as she makes her way to the door.

“I… wasn’t trying to offend her…” Robin says once it’s clear that Maribelle isn’t coming back soon. He looks down at his coat. “Am I really that filthy?”

Lissa shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it, Robin. You can take a bath later if you’re worried, but that’s just Maribelle’s way, you know?”

“I think she’s been really worried lately,” Sumia says. “It doesn’t help that you’ve been gone so much recently…”

“I know…” Lissa frowns. “But I can’t help it! The bandit problem is really getting out of hand. It seems like every time Chrom and I go out, we find new reasons we have to go out AGAIN.”

“Cordelia says the Pegasus Knights have been seeing more combat lately, too,” Sumia says. “Oh… I just wish we knew how to put a stop to this whole thing. What if we run out of patrols to send?”

“Well…” Lissa says slowly. “I’m sure Emm will do something soon. She’s too smart to fall for whatever all these Plegian brigands are trying to do!”

And indeed, Emmeryn’s orders come but a week later. 

“Listen, everyone,” Chrom announces. “In the morning, we’ll be marching to Regna Ferox.”

There is no fear or dread in his expression. The war has not yet erupted, and he does not yet know what Ferox means to the war effort.

But Anri does. He was never able to secure a Feroxi alliance, and he is certain that it cost him years of war.

“Now, this mission is strictly voluntary. Robin, Anri, I know you’re just getting settled in—”

“I’m going with you,” Robin says. “If there’s trouble, you’ll need your tactician.”

Chrom smiles.

“I was hoping you would say that,” he says. After a moment, his gaze shifts questioningly to Anri.

“I volunteer as well,” Anri says. “Feroxi aid would be a great advantage to us.”

Chrom nods solemnly. In his mind, he just doesn’t want to disappoint Emmeryn. Anri wishes he could warn him of how far the consequences truly stretch.

The rest of the Shepherds are happy to volunteer, albeit with varying degrees of excitement and nervousness. They are not yet seasoned war heroes, and Feroxi negotiations are notoriously difficult. But Anri will make sure that they succeed.

He has to.


	5. Chapter 5

The weather turns cold as the Shepherds march north. Anri can feel it in his bones long before they even get anywhere near the border, and it only gets worse as they go on.

 _’I dislike the cold,’_ Grima thinks. 

_’Can you feel it in there?’_ Anri wonders. _’How much of the outside world do you experience?’_

 _’I feel everything that you feel,’_ Grima responds. _’Everything you sense is shared with me,’_

 _’Oh… I’m sorry about the cold, then,’_ Chrom thinks. _’I suppose you’d rather be in the desert? Is that why your followers established Plegia in a desert?’_

 _’I had no say in what the Grimleal did after…’_ Grima does not say the word for what happened to him, but Anri knows he refers to his defeat at the hands of the First Exalt. _’It is probably because I first emerged from the desert. Though it was a bit different from the sands of Plegia.’_

 _’What was it like, then?’_ Anri asks. 

He doesn’t know why Grima is so talkative now; he hasn’t said much since they arrived in Ylisstol, though Anri did not notice the silence so much when he was busy. Now that they’ve been on the road, though, he hasn’t had much to do but think; Robin has been discussing tactics for rain and snow with Chrom and Frederick, and Anri isn’t entirely comfortable trying to integrate with the rest of the Shepherds, who are not quite the comrades that he knows. Grima’s attention is not unwelcome at the moment.

 _’... For years I didn’t see much of it,’_ Grima thinks. _’At first, I thought the sands stretched on endlessly.’_

Anri can imagine it. A plane of sunlit gold running from horizon to horizon. A world of howling winds and monsters…

 _’Wait, are you showing me this?’_ Anri has never seen anything like the animated gargoyles he just pictured running around in _Ylisse,_ that’s for sure.

 _’There used to be all sorts of creatures roaming the land,’_ Grima thinks. _’Now, the only terrors left are humans.’_

 _’You’re not seriously comparing us to THOSE things, are you?’_ Anri certainly can’t see the resemblance.

 _’I see no difference,’_ Grima thinks. _’You both run around slaughtering everything in sight until your own death.’_

Anri frowns.

 _’Are you saying we’re no better than beasts?’_ he asks. _’I cannot agree with that… Not the way you mean it.’_

 _’The way I mean it?’_ Grima asks.

 _’To you men and beasts are both worthless,’_ Anri thinks. _’But every life is precious. Even hunters respect the prey they seek.’_

 _’They do not. Humans do not hunt for food anymore. They hunt for their own pride and glory,’_ Grima thinks. _’And you are one to talk about precious lives! Even you with all your ideals think that the lives of others pale in importance to your cause.’_

 _’They don’t!'_ Anri insists. _’But every battle I fight is for peace! I would not have them die if they would only step aside!’_

 _’Perhaps that is so,’_ Grima thinks. _’But does it hold true when your people are the ones killed? Is it now because YOU would not step aside, or do you still insist the blame rest on your opponents for raising their arms against you?’_

 _’I… That’s…’_ It’s an unfair comparison, is what it is. _’There’s such a thing as right and wrong, you know!’_

 _’There is,’_ Grima agrees. _’But humans cannot tell the difference.’_

Grima is mistaken, of course. Humans know what’s right and what’s wrong, and if they don’t, they soon learn once they discover the consequences of their actions. But Anri does not have time to defend human morality at the moment, for the Shepherds have at long last arrived at the Longfort.

Their welcome is about as warm as the blowing wind. 

“You think you are the first ‘Ylisseans’ to try to cross our border?” the Feroxi guard sneers. “I have the authority to fell such imposters where they stand.”

Anri shivers, and not from the cold. If this is how Basilio has ordered foreigners be treated, he won’t likely be interested in negotiating an alliance, either. It will be just like it was in his world…

“If they want a fight,” Robin says. “I say we give them one. Chrom?”

Chrom grimaces.

“Emmeryn won’t like this at all…” he says.

“They’ll never let us pass if we don’t,” Robin counters.

It isn’t true. Anri knows that if they merely wait a day, the guards will send a message to the capital and receive permission to let the Shepherds in. 

But Robin doesn’t know that. His fierce gaze ignites the Feroxi guard.

“I’ve heard quite enough!” she exclaims. “Attack!”

“They have no respect for us,” Robin says. “We have to earn it in battle first.”

“It seems we have no choice,” Chrom agrees. “I’m with you, Robin. You’re the tactician. What would you have us do?”

“Well…”

Once, Anri might have been eager to rush into battle. Now, he is more patient, and he waits diligently for Robin’s orders.

“Can you and Frederick clear a path for us?” Robin asks him. “I… I’ve never actually seen you on the battlefield. But somehow I feel you have more experience than most of us.”

Anri smiles.

“Leave it to us,” he says, nodding at Frederick. “You focus on keeping the others safe.”

“Thank you,” Chrom says, standing right at Robin’s side. “Just make sure you leave their commander for me.”

“Milord, is that wise?” Frederick asks. “The woman’s javelin may pierce you from afar.”

“I know the risks, Frederick,” Chrom says. “But it is my honor at stake. These people doubt that I am the Prince of Ylisse. I will not much convince them by hiding away.”

“We’ll show them the truth,” Robin says. “You can count on me.”

Though Frederick is clearly not convinced, he will not protest what Chrom has argued with such conviction, at least not under these circumstances. The Feroxi would gladly defeat and capture them all, but even they would not execute someone claiming to be a prince without further inquiry. 

Anri supposes that is why brigands have tried to claim such an identity before. Now that he thinks about it, it’s no wonder that the Feroxi were so hostile to him in his world. What scorn they must have felt for his name! He brought nothing but brigands to their front door!

He fears the khans will give the Shepherds much the same welcome this time. Perhaps it will be even worse, for here they are fighting the Feroxi guard themselves. If Basilio doesn’t want to join the war effort, bringing a fight right to the border isn’t going to endear the idea to him.

And yet, when Anri brings down his sword upon the guards, he can see something like approval in their eyes.

 _’Can’t you see?’_ Grima thinks. _’They’re only testing you. This isn’t border defense…’_

Anri jumps upwards, ready to swing his sword again. Suddenly, he feels his body surge with strength, and he lands his blade with more force than he should be capable of alone…

 _’Are you helping me?’_ he thinks. _’Why?’_

 _’They believe they’re superior,’_ Grima thinks. _’That is why they would never help you. Your war was beneath them.’_

Anger boils in Anri’s blood. Can that truly be the reason? But war endangers everyone! Nobody is safe when one person is allowed to threaten whoever they please!

 _’They don’t care,’_ Grima thinks _’You’ve already seen how much they don’t care.’_

He has, hasn’t he. Years of bargaining—near begging at times—got Anri nowhere. If Basilio were ever going to be persuaded by sympathy, it would have happened during the war. True, in the end, they did not need Ferox’s aid to defeat Gangrel. The threat was defeated, and Ferox did not lose any people. If it was all a political game, perhaps Ferox won. But Anri would never have made the same moves if their positions were reversed. If Plegia had been going after Ferox, he would have fought at their side as if it were his own life at stake. That is the only right thing to do when peace is threatened.

 _’Show them, then,’_ Grima thinks. _’Show them that everything they think about you is wrong.’_

Anri feels another pulse of strength flow through him. Grima’s power gives him a vigor he hasn’t felt in years, and he finds himself cutting through the guard’s line almost as easily as Frederick and his horse are.

“You’ve been trained…” Frederick says once they’ve forced all the nearby guards to fall back. “Where did you say you were from? Your form is… familiar.”

Frederick narrows his eyes, and Anri freezes. His sword is entirely unsheathed at his side, which Frederick clearly takes notice of.

“That isn’t right…” Frederick mutters quietly.

Anri swallows thickly. He cannot lie to Frederick, so he instead pretends that he didn’t hear the comment.

“I’ve practiced the sword since childhood,” he says. “And it’s paid off. I’ve been in my fair share of disputes. This is just one more fight I can’t afford to lose.”

Even as the two of them move forward, Anri knows that Frederick is still scrutinizing him. Gods, how could he be so stupid as to use the Falchion? Of course someone would recognize it, unique as it is.

 _’It’s not the only one in the world,’_ Grima thinks. 

_’It isn’t?’_ But that’s what the legends all say. It’s why his father put such tremendous pressure on him to learn sword fighting even though was barely past toddlerhood. It was the only sword like it in the world. Only those with Naga’s blood could wield it, and even then only those it chose. Emmeryn could not wield it, so the responsibility fell to him. It was his duty as a descendant of the Hero King.

 _’… Really? You accept all that you were told by that man?’_ Anri’s stomach flips at Grima’s chiding tone. _’Even you do not like your father.’_

 _’Well, I…’_ Anri can’t exactly deny that he harbors negative feelings towards his father’s choices and attitudes. His own Plegian War was just the sequel to the Plegian War his father started, and Anri still cannot see how that was supposed to be just. His father would have killed every single Grimleal, that is, every Plegian citizen, solely because they pledged allegiance to a god who _might_ destroy them all. But Grima hadn’t done anything back then. The Grimleal hadn’t done anything. His father killed whoever he pleased for his own purposes, and it was _wrong._ Anri cannot so easily forgive all of that. _’But what does that have to do with the Falchion?’_

 _’Naga so loved granting humans the ability to slay dragons,’_ Grima thinks bitterly, _’That she created swords from her fangs multiple times and gave the weapons to several different people. One must have dragon blood to wield one, but any dragon will do. The unitors of Valm were of divine dragon blood, and they had one such sword at their disposal.’_

 _’You mean… Alm and Celica?’_ Anri is not as familiar with their tales as he is with Ylissean history, but his tutors would have flayed him if he hadn’t paid attention to world history as well. _’Alm did wield a dragon-slaying sword to take down Duma…’_

 _’Yes, it was him and not Celica,’_ Grima thinks. _’Not because she would not have been able to use it. She simply would not have ever wanted to. Dragons do not slay with every bite, you know. If the wielder does not want to cause damage, the blade will strike dull. Now, with that said, why do you suppose that your sisters cannot wield the Falchion?’_

 _’That… makes sense,’_ Anri thinks. Emmeryn is a pacifist, and Lissa has a long way to go before she’ll be ready to pick up a tome for the sake of battle. And it certainly makes more sense than imagining that he somehow deserved the blade more than his siblings.

 _’If it had anything to do with fitness,’_ Grima thinks, _’your father would never have been able to touch it.’_

Anri supposes that this also makes sense. If he were younger, this new information might tarnish his pride. But now, hearing that he was never predestined to wield the Falchion seems… right. In some ways, it is a relief to know that his family’s sword does not judge every family member and accept only those it deems worthy. On the other hand, it is somewhat terrifying, for if it was never fated for Anri to wield the Falchion, perhaps he should not have taken it up in the first place.

 _’Would you have chosen something different if your father hadn’t pressured you?’_ Grima asks, seeming genuinely curious.

 _’I don’t know,’_ Anri admits. _’I was always interested in the bow as a child. I focused on mastering the sword, though. Maybe I would have liked being an archer better.’_

 _’Perhaps you might train as a bow knight someday,’_ Grima thinks. _’Then you would be able to wield bows and swords both.’_

It’s such a casual suggestion that Anri almost laughs. Here he is getting career advice from the fell dragon in the middle of battle.

 _’Is this your way of telling me I’m not good enough as a great lord?’_ he asks, amused. 

The Feroxi guard in front of him is annoyingly resilient, and Anri decides the best thing to do is to land _Aether._ It will help him, too, as he is starting to feel somewhat exhausted.

And if he’s showing off just a little for Grima, well… it isn’t every day you catch the fell dragon in a good mood.

 _’Oh, no, you’re doing perfectly,’_ Grima thinks wryly. _’Why, I’m sure Frederick is quite impressed by your mastery of the Ylissean royal family’s secret technique.’_

Anri freezes. Turning his gaze from the stunned warrior to Frederick behind him, he can see that the great knight is currently locked in combat. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw Anri’s move anyway, though. He’s always suspected Frederick of having conjured eyes in the back of his head.

Grima’s laughter rings so strongly in his mind that Anri fears it will escape from his body as well. That thought seems to amuse Grima even more.

 _’You have no brain,’_ Grima thinks. _’But fortunately, you don’t need one. I would not let you do anything that would destroy my plans. Frederick can think what he likes, but he cannot do anything to you alone. And the Chrom of this world is unlikely to take any action against you. So long as you don’t tell anyone about me, you can act as royal as you like.’_

Grima’s words are somewhat comforting. Grima will certainly stop him from making too big of a mistake… at least, as long as Grima would be harmed by the mistake, too. Anri doubts that Grima cares too much about Anri’s relations with the other Shepherds. But integrity of the mission inside, Anri doesn’t want to make Frederick _hate_ him.

Fortunately, when Frederick finally approaches him, he doesn’t look angry.

“Good work,” he says. It isn’t as warm as Anri is used to, but of course, Frederick is not speaking to his lord right now. “We’ve sent them all retreating. A sensible commander would surrender now, but it seems this one is waiting for milord’s approach.”

Anri glaces over to see the commander apparently waiting patiently. A few guards remain at her side to protect her from unexpected attacks, but it seems she wants to duel with Chrom.

It really is a test of Ylissean strength, then. Anri tries to bite back his bitterness. These people do not understand just how long and difficult a full-scale war with Plegia will be. (Because they have no empathy, his bitter thoughts insist.)

After a few minutes, Chrom and Robin approach him and Frederick. Although they appear to have exerted themselves, they are not nearly as exhausted as Anri is. It seems that even with Grima helping him, his body just isn’t what it used to be.

“It looks like everything went exactly according to plan,” Chrom says, nodding approvingly. 

“Thank you, both of you,” Robin says. “We’ve secured the area behind us, so if you want to head back and get healed up—”

“I am in fine condition still,” Frederick says.

“I am as well,” Anri says. Tired though he is, he is aware that his limits extend much, much further than this.

Robin frowns.

“Are you sure? You look…” He pauses. “I guess you look like you’ve just fought off a bunch of armed guards. Which is only to be expected, but… Just don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’ve already done your fair share of work today.”

“You two can come along with us if you want,” Chrom says. “But I want everyone to stay their weapons until we try to talk things out one more time.”

If Chrom was hoping to avoid more fighting, though, he must be disappointed. Raimi, the commander, insists that the Prince of Ylisse show her what he’s made of. Anri, Frederick, and Robin are left to stare awkwardly at Raimi’s guards, each side making sure that the other doesn’t unfairly aid their own leader.

“Is it just me,” Robin whispers into Anri’s ear, “or does something feel weird about this whole thing? First everyone retreats, now their leader is insisting on a warrior’s duel. Is this how people normally deal with border trouble? I can’t help but think that they’re plotting something.”

Anri hums in agreement. It’s exactly like what Grima said.

“They’re testing us right now,” he whispers back. “They probably have something bigger planned.”

“We have to stay on our guard, then.” Robin quickly steps back just as the duel ends. Chrom is victorious, although he will likely find himself treating several bruises later.

“A thousand apologies, Prince Chrom,” Raimi says, all smiles now that the battle is over. “I truly took you for brigand imposters. But no frauds could ever wage a battle as you just have!”

Anri narrows his eyes. Raimi’s words can’t possibly be true. There are plenty of experienced brigands around; criminals may come from any background. It can’t be Chrom’s fighting skills that convinced her… Indeed, the more he thinks of it, the more likely it seems that she did not need “convincing” at all. One cannot easily fake the Brand. Chrom’s shoulder was the only proof any of them needed.

Trading a glance with Robin, Anri follows Chrom into the warmth of the Longfort. Frederick offers to retrieve the rest of the Shepherds, while Raimi leaves to send a message ahead to the capital. With the others now gone, Robin draws Chrom and Anri into a huddle.

“I think we’ve passed their preliminary test,” Robin says. “But I suspect we’ll be faced with something like this at the capital, too. Are we in shape to fight again, Chrom?”

“What?” Chrom frowns. “I don’t think there are any injuries that Lissa can’t fix right up. I take it Raimi will escort us to the capital tomorrow? We should all be fine… But do you truly expect to fight again so soon? The khan should have notice of our arrival.”

Anri grimaces. He would have taken the Feroxi’s excuses at face value too had Grima not pointed out the inconsistencies in the guards’ behavior. In truth, he has no doubt that there are brigands out there falsely claiming Ylissean identities. But whatever problem that may pose to the Feroxi, they can certainly use the situation to their advantage against Ylisse now.

“From what little I know, Regna Ferox is a nation of warriors,” Robin says. “I suspect they may have different values than us, that’s all.”

“Oh… Right.” Chrom nods. “Battle is politics for the Feroxi, after all. But that’s all the more reason they should be willing to help us, right?”

Anri wishes it were true. For all that the Feroxi are supposed to love battle, nothing could ever convince them to join the Ylissean cause. He has no idea whether their chances at an alliance in this world are any better.

And yet… the Feroxi fighters gazed at the Shepherds with respect as they retreated. Anri doesn’t know if that will be enough to change things, but he is sure it’s more than he ever got.

“We just need to convince them,” he says firmly.


	6. Chapter 6

Anri had forgotten just how little he used to know about Regna Ferox. He flushes in shame when Chrom takes one look at the East Khan and gapes.

“You’re the—?” Chrom coughs. “Er, that is to say… the khan, I presume?”

“One of them,” Flavia says, amused.

Anri is surprised to see her as well, though not because _he_ is unfamiliar with the structure of the Feroxi regime. On the contrary, it’s because he _is_ familiar with Feroxi’s two khans that he did not expect to see her. Basilio, the West Khan, was the first to greet him in his world, and the reigning khan made it clear that he was not interested in making pacts.

He isn’t sure what Flavia is up to, but he can’t imagine that Basilio approved.

“I know why you have come, Prince.” Flavia says, nodding at Chrom. Her eyes are friendly even as she says her next words. “But regrettably, I cannot provide any Feroxi troops for Ylisse.”

Anri narrows his eyes. Of course she can’t, not without consulting Basilio. Flavia explains as much to the Shepherds. What Anri can’t understand is why Basilio isn’t telling them all this himself…

“The captain of my border guard informs me that your Shepherds are quite capable,” Flavia says, her eyes glinting. “Perhaps you would consider representing the East in the upcoming tournament? If you win and I become ruling khan, I will grant your alliance.”

Anri blinks. He knows that the khans always choose foreigners to fight their tournaments on their behalf, but in his own world, he is certain that Flavia did not choose any Ylissean. What caused her to extend an offer now? Was this what the border guards were testing them for?

“We have no choice,” Chrom says. He glances at Robin, who nods in support. “My people are becoming desperate. If Plegia’s constant attacks do not cease, war is practically inevitable. If fighting for you is the quickest way to an alliance, then we will take up our steel.”

Flavia’s grin is almost blinding, but Anri knows the look of a calculating commander when he sees one. He supposes he now knows why Basilio isn’t here; Flavia wants to use the Shepherds to her own advantage, and she can offer them something that Basilio never would. She was always friendlier to Anri’s plight than her counterpart, though he cannot imagine that she would have volunteered to join him even had she been the ruling khan. It seems she doesn’t mind a conditional deal, though.

They aren’t given much time to prepare, only a single week. Anri doesn’t doubt the Shepherds’ abilities… but a week is not nearly enough time to get up to speed with Basilio’s champion, a swordsman named Lon’qu.

In fact, Anri knows Lon’qu far better than the others do. In his world, the man had actually _left_ Basilio and joined with the Shepherds on his own. Anri had never coaxed the reason why from the serious and private man’s lips, but he is certainly thankful for whatever moved his heart. The war would have surely been even harder without the man and his skilled techniques.

And because Anri knows Lon’qu, he knows too that Chrom is not yet a match for him. If the two fight one-on-one, the victory will surely go to Lon’qu for the West Khan.

He can’t let that happen.

“Chrom,” he says solemnly.

It’s late enough in the evening that everyone else has already gone inside to rest and eat. But Anri has always felt the need to train longer and harder than the others; his duties are greater than theirs, after all. It allows him the opportunity now to speak with his alternate self alone. His words would seem improper if said in earshot of the Shepherds. 

“Let me represent Ylisse in this tournament,” he continues. “Let me trade blows with the opposing champion.”

It’s the only way he can be sure that they will win the tournament. He’s spent enough time fighting side-by-side with Lon’qu to know how to take him down. It isn’t exactly fair, but…

 _’They say all’s fair in love and war,’_ Grima thinks. _’Do you buy that?’_

 _’No,’_ Anri thinks. _’But this is different. I’m trying to STOP a war.’_

“Anri…” Chrom looks up, meeting Anri’s gaze. “I wondered if you would say something like this.”

Chrom’s tone is friendly, but he isn’t subtle in his avoidance of the question. “You’ve been eyeing Lon’qu nonstop since you saw him. Even Robin hasn’t been studying him that intensely.”

“Basilio did not choose him to be champion at random,” Anri says. “Lon’qu has won the tournament once before, too. I have the experience to match him. You know I can defeat him.”

“I know you have confidence that you’ll win,” Chrom says. “But as the prince, I have to take responsibility. I can’t allow you to go up there just because you’re looking for a challenge. I can’t bet my country on anyone’s pride but my own.”

“Pride is worthless compared to Ylisse’s safety,” Anri says. “You don’t have the skills to best their man. Would you really take your chances, knowing Ylisse’s future hangs in the balance?”

Chrom narrows his eyes.

“And just what does Ylisse’s future mean to you?” he asks. Slowly, he draws the Falchion. He does not extend it threateningly, but his stance clearly offers a challenge. “Would you draw your sword against its Prince in your effort to defend it?”

“I…” Anri reaches for his own Falchion. There is no resistance from Grima, which he takes as approval. “I will, if that’s what it takes.”

Chrom’s eyes rake over the blade in all its glory. Anri knows that he cannot possibly understand; Anri himself would not comprehend if he were not now aware of parallel worlds.

“So Frederick was right,” Chrom breathes. “It looks just like…”

“Your blade isn’t as unique as you’ve been told,” Anri says. “The world is far wider than you yet realize.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Chrom asks. “Just who are you…?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anri says. “I want the Ylissean people to be safe. I want Robin to be safe. And to that end…” He shifts his stance into an offensive position. “I will defeat you if I have to.”

“I accept your challenge,” Chrom says. “Frederick has praised your fighting skills. I want to see them for myself. If you can truly defeat me, I will put my faith in you for the tournament.”

Anri needs no further invitation. He rushes forward with his sword swinging, and the clang of the two Falchions meeting is loud against the otherwise quiet night. His younger counterpart may be in his physical prime, but he has not yet learned the art of battle. Every blow that Chrom attempts to make is easy for Anri to block.

Of course, Anri has the advantage of knowing exactly what moves the House of Ylisse teaches its members. Even when Chrom abandons his favorite moves for less typical maneuvers, Anri obviously has no trouble countering. 

“Who taught you to fight like this?” Chrom asks through gritted teeth. He was surely not prepared to be so utterly ineffective at every turn. But Anri is not sorry; the hit to his ego has to come sometime, for the truth is that the royal techniques are not secrets, and many of his foes will be educated.

“I’ve learned from my mistakes,” Anri says. “I used to be just like you. But I warn you now, strength alone will fail you. You have to hone your mind and steel your will. If you want to protect the ones you love, you have to recognize that you _aren’t yet good enough._ Only then can you grow stronger.”

Chrom prepares to strike again, but having run through all his prepared strategies, he now tries to improvise. He is no tactician, and his move leaves him open.

“Enough.” Anri runs forward and leaps into the air. 

Chrom’s eyes widen, and he raises his sword to block the hit. Anri twists and brings his blade down. With a sudden thrust, he sends Chrom’s Falchion flying right out of his hands.

 _’Checkmate,’_ Grima thinks. The god did not lend Anri his power as he had when they were facing the Feroxi, yet he sounds as self-satisfied as if he had personally claimed victory. There’s something achingly familiar about his words as well, and it hits Anri like a bolt of lightning: Robin used to use the same phrase while in the heat of battle. His tone was never as smug as Grima’s, though; it was more of a rallying cry than an acknowledgement of victory, for victory was never certain enough to call beforehand. 

_’And yet deep down, you believed him incapable of losing,’_ Grima thinks.

Anri’s heart aches.

 _’I couldn’t imagine it,’_ he admits. _’It made me too complacent. Even geniuses are only human. I should have protected him. After everything he did for me, I failed him…’_

Catching Anri’s expression, Chrom huffs.

“That is not the look of a victor,” he says. “Do you now regret your actions?”

“No,” Anri says quickly. His regrets belong to another time and place. “No. This had to be done. I have to be the champion.”

“You’ll be representing Ylisse itself,” Chrom says. “I concede you’re more than good enough to. But I… I wonder… The way you move… ”

Chrom looks down, suddenly unwilling to meet Anri’s eyes.

“Forgive me if this sounds improper,” Chrom says. “But… Surely you must realize that certain traits of yours are quite uncommon outside the Ylissean royal line, and… Er, I suppose what I’m asking is… You see, my father spent much of his life away from the castle, and it’s not impossible to think that…”

Anri’s eyes widen. Although he doesn’t look like a mirror image of Chrom, _of course_ he still bears a resemblance to the royal family. He has kept the Brand safely covered, but while revealing it would prove his lineage, hiding it does not disprove it.

Still, he never expected to be asked so directly whether he is his father’s bastard child. The worst part is that similar thoughts have crossed his mind in the past. When Lissa was born without the Brand, it raised rumors that never quite died down (despite magical tests clearly disproving the accusation). But in Anri’s mind, his mother’s fidelity was never in question. Though his father was often gone, _she_ was always surrounded by people, to the point that he can only remember being alone with her a couple times in his childhood. She wouldn’t have had the freedom to carry out an affair. His father, on the other hand… Well, there is certainly a difference between genocide and infidelity, and perhaps it is unfair of Anri to suspect that his father’s warmongering would make him unfaithful to his wife. But simply put, his father was not upstanding enough in character for Anri to feel confident that he would _not_ be unfaithful.

 _’It’s as good an excuse as any,’_ Grima thinks. _’You could stop concealing the Brand, at least in more private settings.’_

 _’It’s a lie, though.’_ Anri thinks.

 _’It’s a lie to say that you are your father’s son?’_ Grima asks incredulously.

 _’The words themselves may be literally true,’_ Anri thinks, _’but if I say them now they’ll mean something different. He’ll condemn his father for something that didn’t happen… Or may not have, at least.’_

 _’The truth is the truth,’_ Grima thinks. _’It is a lie to say you are NOT your father’s son.’_

 _’I know,’_ Anri thinks. _’But terrible as my father was, I can’t blame him for things he is innocent of,’_

 _’... I suppose you shouldn’t,’_ Grima agrees rather reluctantly. _’So, then… You must demur.’_

“My history isn’t important,” Anri says. “I care about the future, not the past. You don’t have to be royalty to protect those you care about.”

“You mean Robin,” Chrom says. “You’re here because of Robin, I know. But if you actually belong to the House of Ylisse, we… I mean, I should… Emm can…”

“My heritage shouldn’t matter to you at all,” Anri says. “Blood doesn’t matter. Where a person comes from doesn’t matter. A person’s choices are the only measure by which we can properly judge them.”

“I agree!” Chrom exclaims. “And you’ve chosen to help us. You and Robin both. So if there’s anything I can do for you…”

“Keep your people safe,” Anri says. “And keep Robin safe. That’s all I ask.”

“Robin…” Chrom’s eyes suddenly flick to somewhere behind Anri. “Robin? Why are you coming out here so late?”

Anri whirls around to see a very unamused Robin.

“I came to look for you, Chrom,” he says. “And you too, Anri, although I wasn’t sure you’d be in the same place. You realize that you’ve missed dinner now, don’t you? Stahl would have eaten both your portions if I hadn’t stopped him. And Frederick was brooding the whole time. I think he was imagining all the different ways Anri could be murdering you right now.”

“He only disarmed me,” Chrom says. He has long since re-sheathed his sword, but he pats it once and mimics a flying motion with his hand as if to demonstrate exactly what happened.

Robin narrows his eyes at Anri.

“And is there any special reason you had to fight at mealtime?” he asks. “Late practice is not as good for you as Chrom seems to think.”

“I apologize, Robin,” Anri says, suppressing a chuckle. In his world, Robin had chastised him plenty of times for this, but he had just as much opportunity to chastise Robin for the very same thing. They spent many a restless night working together, desperate as they both were to do anything that might make a difference.

“The nature of our conversation was not one we could sustain publicly,” Chrom says, nodding. “I hope you don’t mind the sudden change of plans, but it seems we’ve decided that Anri should be the one to fight against Lon’qu.”

Robin blinks in surprise, but a second later he furrows his brow thoughtfully.

“The two of them at the front…” he mutters. “Half of us spread out to each side… Sully… No, Sumia… No, both… That works. Yes, that should be fine.”

Chrom chuckles.

“I see it didn’t even phase you,” he says. “And here I thought the commander was an important position.”

“Huh? O-Oh!” Robin flushes. “I’m sorry. Of course you can’t be so easily replaced. It’s only that, uh, since you’re both adept with swords, it wasn’t a lot of trouble to recalculate everyone’s positions.”

Anri smiles.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he says. “Save your strategic prowess for the rest of the group. I already know how I’m going to defeat Lon’qu. That’s why I was adamant that I be the one to face him.”

“I’m going to need you to demonstrate what you have in mind before I sign off on it,” Robin says. “Chrom isn’t paying me to slack off, you know.”

“Of course,” Anri says. “I can explain everything now, if you like.” He starts to draw his sword when Robin suddenly snaps.

“No!” he exclaims. “You and Chrom have to at least make an appearance inside or I’m going to get blamed for depriving you of rest.”

“Why don’t we discuss the plan while Anri and I take our meal,” Chrom suggests. “We can come back out after if we need to.”

“Fine with me,” Anri agrees. When Robin still looks reluctant, he continues. “I’m coming back out to practice later whether you’re with me or not.”

“Oh, gods,” Robin mutters. “Now I have to make sure YOU don’t overextend yourself. I’ll say what I said to Chrom earlier: a few days of practice will not save you if you aren’t already prepared for this.”

“Fortunately, I am,” Anri says. 

The plan, as it stands, is for Anri to take advantage of the fact that he already knows Lon’qu and his mixed Chon’sin/Feroxi fighting style. Both nations teach their fighters strong offensive tactics, and the combination makes Lon’qu a frightening force to behold. But neither country is particularly known for defense. All Anri needs to do is force Lon’qu to fight defensively, and he’s sure that the man will eventually falter.

 _’It would be easier to send a woman against him,’_ Grima thinks. _’If you want him to falter…’_

 _’There’s no honor in that,’_ Anri thinks. _’I don’t understand his fears, but I know he can’t help them. Abusing that knowledge wouldn’t prove us the better fighters. If anything, it would prove we don’t respect them enough to be worthy of an alliance.’_

 _’People like you get killed for ideals like that,’_ Grima thinks, _’and you know I’m right.’_

Anri sighs. True, in the middle of a war, when it’s a matter of life and death, you have to use every strategy available. Robin hadn’t shied away from dirty tactics, and Anri couldn’t have argued against him if he’d wanted to. He is not a paragon of virtue; he can’t be, not when holding too tightly to all of his principles would do the world more harm than good. But he _can_ beat Lon’qu _without_ exploiting the man’s deepest fears. And knowing that, how could he let Lon’qu suffer just to make the victory slightly easier? 

_’They wouldn’t treat you with the same respect,’_ Grima thinks. _’No one else in the world would care so much.’_

 _’If they don’t care,’_ Anri thinks, _’then they should.’_

 _’Humans do a lot of things they shouldn’t.’_ Grima’s anger churns in Anri’s gut. _’Don’t let morality fool you into being stupid. This battle may not be to the death, but I know you would try the same stunt if it were, so long as you thought you could handle it. But don’t think I will allow you to risk your life. I don’t care if you win or lose this battle, for alliance or no we’re going to end up in the heart of Plegia. But when we go to war? You may want to save as many lives as possible, but many of those lives belong to people who aren’t afraid to kill you. In fact, you would already be dead a hundred times over if Robin hadn’t figured out how to save you every time. I’ll say it again: people like you get killed because of your ideals. Don’t you know that no good deed goes unpunished? The wicked rule the world. You’re too kind to be strong on your own. But sooner or later you’ll see what I do. Until then, I’ll force you stay alive if I must. I’ll force you to stop being reckless. We have a deal, and I won’t allow you to get out of it by dying.’_

Anri shivers. Grima is as angry now as when he tried to save the child in Southtown. Anri doesn’t understand; there is no great risk to him now, so Grima should have no reason to fear for his current vessel. That’s all the fell dragon needs right now, isn’t it? A body? 

_’I’m not going to get killed,’_ he thinks irritatedly. _’Because if you lose me, you’ll jump straight to Robin. Like hell I’m going to let you make him suffer any more than you already have!’_

 _’It’s always about Robin with you. Or your sister, or your soldiers, or some random villager you suddenly decided is worth more than you are. You consider yourself last,’_ Grima thinks. _’Do you know how infuriating that is for me? You ALWAYS think you’re doing the right thing, but you don’t know how to calculate risk!’_

 _’It’s worth it to me,’_ Anri insists. _’I don’t care what it costs me, if it saves one more person…’_

 _’Well it’s NOT worth it to me,’_ Grima thinks. _’And since your body happens to be MINE right now, I’m not letting you take any horribly miscalculated risks with it.’_

 _’Are you at least going to let me fight Lon’qu?’_ Anri asks. _’Or am I going to have to fight YOU instead?’_

 _’I already told you that I don’t care what happens with this one,’_ Grima thinks dismissively. 

If that were true, Anri can’t see why Grima bothered to get so upset with him. But the fell dragon has apparently decided not to speak to him further, and so Anri has no choice but to move on… at least until five minutes later, when he feels another flash of Grima’s emotions, though it passes so quickly that he doesn’t have time to categorize them.

 _’By the way,’_ Grima thinks bitingly, _’Even if you die, the Robin of your world will still live. But he will be entirely alone.’_

Anri freezes in his tracks. Robin, _his_ Robin, is the one he’s really here for. Every moment he spends _not_ getting Grima a body is another moment that Robin spends… wherever his spirit is at the moment. Is he okay? Is he in pain? Is he bored? Is he angry? Can he see how long Anri is taking to set him free? Is he aware that anything is happening at all?

 _’Don’t make him suffer,’_ Anri pleads. _’Grima, please...You know I’ll listen to you in the end!’_

 _’Yes, I know,’_ Grima thinks slowly. His anger does not dissipate, but it no longer threatens to burst out of Chrom’s body. _’You… aren’t what I despise…’_

 _’Don’t you despise humans?’_ Anri asks, confused. Unless sharing Naga’s blood somehow makes him not a human…

 _’It isn’t that,’_ Grima thinks. _'Besides, humans and dragons are equally heartless… It just happens that you have a better nature than most. It’s what puts you at risk.’_

Anri blinks. Was that a compliment? From the fell dragon? Qualified with criticism, but even so…

 _”You should finish getting ready for your fight,’_ Grima continues. _’And I suppose it IS somewhat entertaining to watch humans try NOT to kill each other.’_

It’s the closest thing to approval that Anri expects he’ll ever get out of Grima.

When he finally comes face to face with Lon’qu, it strikes him suddenly that this, too, is not _quite_ the comrade he knows. He is even more serious now than he was when Anri knew him; there is no hint of a smile on his face, no trace of the kindness that Anri knows exists in his heart. 

If Anri were an inexperienced man, he would be utterly terrified of the fight ahead. Even with his knowledge of the future, he is not entirely free of worries. He has sparred with and beaten the more experienced Lon’qu of his own world, and he can certainly beat this one. But that does not mean it will be _easy._

“This will truly be a test of skill,” Anri says, nodding politely at Lon’qu. “It’s an honor for me to fight Basilio’s strongest man.”

Lon’qu narrows his eyes. He’s never taken well to compliments.

“I hear you’ve proven yourself to your leader as well,” he says. “Let us see if it’s enough by Feroxi standards.”

Immediately, Lon’qu rushes at Anri. As expected, it’s the same opening Lon’qu used when he would spar with Anri. The swordsman never held back, not even while practicing.

Just as Anri expected, this fight is not fair. Anri is prescient. Lon’qu never backs down for an instant, though, even when he sees Anri come in for the final blow. Were Anri aiming to kill, Lon’qu would die a fearless death. Instead, it is but a respectable loss.

“Well fought! You have my respect.” Flavia addresses the Shepherds as a group, but her eyes keep flickering back to Anri. Her gaze is a little too bright, her smile a little too proud. He may have fought on her behalf, but it wasn’t for her sake. And she knows that. “And perhaps more to the point, you have your alliance.”

Anri’s relief is palpable. Relief, and something else. Something even sweeter.

Hope.

Today, he has done what he was never able to before. The Feroxi alliance is assured. Ylisse will not fight the war alone.

Anri has changed the course of fate.


	7. Chapter 7

The Shepherds return to Ylisstol in good spirits. In a twist Anri did not expect, they leave with one more soldier than they arrived with. Lon’qu officially joins their ranks, and far earlier than he had in Anri’s world. Anri is not any surer of the man’s motivation. Basilio presents him as his own “contribution to the Ylissean cause,” but Anri cannot accept his words so easily, not when he knows Basilio would not be helping them had he and Lon’qu won. 

And Lon’qu… Lon’qu is as hard to read as ever. He does not protest Basilio’s handing him over, but he does not seem to particularly care about being part of the Shepherds, either. Is he really just following Basilio’s orders? Or did his heart tell him to join Ylisse’s cause? Were his motivations the same in Anri’s world? 

Of course, whatever reasons Lon’qu may have, Anri knows he will be a strong and loyal ally. And yet it still bothers him. How little he knows about so many of the men and women who fought at his side… It wasn’t just Lon’qu whose mind eluded him. Aside from the friends he had known from childhood, how many of his Shepherds did he truly bond with? Robin was his closest companion, and even then Anri isn’t entirely sure what compelled him to join the Shepherds, what made him want to stay at Anri’s side when their paths could have so easily diverged after Southtown. And then, what of the others? His Plegian allies? His allies from Valm? Perhaps he never knew his comrades that well at all…

 _’No one goes to war to make friends,’_ Grima thinks. _’They were good allies, and you kept each other safe. You had no obligation to love each other.’_

 _’But I do love them all,’_ Anri thinks. _’I just… was never able to show them how much…’_

 _’Really, you love them?’_ Grima’s tone takes on a sarcastic edge. _’But you didn’t have much trouble leaving them, did you? Did you even think about them when I made you my offer?’_

 _’I… I…’_ Oh gods, he didn’t. _’But you’ll send me back once you have a body, right?_

 _’I will if you insist,’_ Grima thinks. _’Hmm, but at the rate you’re going, you may be an old man before I can send you back. I wonder what your precious friends would think about that.’_

Anri scowls.

 _’Just tell me you’re impatient next time,’_ he complains. _’Don’t bring the Shepherds into it!_

Grima is obviously just trying to upset him. Even so, Anri can’t ignore the sinking feeling in his chest. Some friend he is. The truth is, even if he had thought more about the people he was leaving behind, he still would have made the same decision. It’s for Robin. Robin was so important to everyone; surely they would all understand. Anyone would do the same thing in his position, wouldn’t they?

 _’I doubt that,’_ Grima thinks. _’You’re the only one who would go so far someone like him.’_

 _’Someone like him?’_ Anri echoes. _’What’s that supposed to mean?’_

Anri would defend Robin with every breath in his body. If Grima dares to think even one bad thing about him…

_’Can you truly tell me that nobody in the halidom was pleased to find out their exalt’s strange tactician would not be returning to Ylisstol? That no one felt relief that a foreigner would no longer be whispering in their ruler’s ear?”_

_’Nobody felt that way!’_ Anri snaps. And if they did, they had no right to! _’Robin saved us all… He’s not some outsider! He’s one of us. And he’ll always have a home with me. I don’t care about catering to politics.’_

 _’You care for him because he was useful to you,’_ Grima thinks. _’Is that all that justifies your loyalty? What if he had lived? What if he decided to retire after the war, to leave you and never come back? Would you still defend him so strongly?’_

 _’Yes!’_ Anri insists. _’I don’t care if he’s working for me or not! He has a beautiful heart. He was fighting to save people when I met him, and he never stopped fighting for that cause as long as I knew him. He has the strength to make the world a better place. A world of peace… That’s all I fight for. I want to build that sort of world for him… Or better, WITH him… Don’t you understand? The world will never be as good without him in it…’_

Mild nausea begins to turn his stomach. It takes a moment, but then Anri realizes the cause. His words are making Grima _sick._

It would almost be funny if it weren’t so twisted. It occurs to him that Grima does _not_ understand what he means. And yet… Grima feels everything he feels, doesn’t he? So how can he _not_ feel what Anri does for Robin, know what he knows about the man? How can the truth that pours from Anri’s heart sicken him?

 _’I am merely appalled by your ignorance,’_ Grima thinks. _’Weren’t you just lamenting how little you bothered to learn of the people around you? Yet you now have the idea that you know what lied in your tactician’s heart.’_

 _’I may not have cherished everyone as I should have,’_ Anri thinks, _’but I know I am not mistaken in this. I know Robin’s heart. The heat of battle forces soldiers to bare their souls. No one could fake his level of devotion for a cause they didn’t believe in.’_

 _’Believing in a cause doesn’t make it right…’_ Grima thinks.

 _’Are you saying my cause was wrong?’_ Grima must be able to feel his anger. He never wanted to fight a war! It was Gangrel who brought the fighting to him! 

_’I don’t care what happens to Plegia,’_ Grima thinks. _’And why should I care about Ylisse, either? So they started the conflict this time; how many times has Ylisse started it? At this point, it would be fair for you to just destroy each other.’_

 _’I don’t want to destroy Plegia,’_ Anri thinks. _’I am not my father. I do not believe an entire people deserves to suffer for the mistakes of a few cruel people. There has to be a way we can all get along, and I am not going to stop until I find it.’_

 _’Even if you found a way, you are but one person,’_ Grima thinks. _Your kind will not follow your path of peace unless you buy their compliance with blood. And then they will abandon all that you stand for as soon as they have the chance. The world will go back to how it is now. You’ll have wasted your life pursuing something insignificant.’_

 _’You can’t possibly know that,’_ Anri thinks. _’You may have lived for thousands of years, but you cannot know that peace is doomed to fail. So what if no one has achieved it yet? No one has found the right way yet! That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist! People will choose peace when it’s offered to them. But with the way Plegia and Ylisse have treated each other for years, the people have never had the chance. Someone has to change that. Otherwise, we WILL destroy ourselves eventually. But gods, it doesn’t have to be that way.’_

 _’You’re determined not to listen to me…’_ Grima thinks exasperatedly. 

_’I AM listening to you,’_ Anri thinks. _’I just think what you’re saying is wrong.’_

 _’No one would ever accuse you of lacking courage.’_ Grima’s inflection is strangely light. _’But you would be smart to fear me more than you do.’_

 _’Why, because you could kill me?’_ Anri thinks. _’I’ve faced that fear too many times for it to hold me back now.’_

 _’Oh, I could do so much worse than that.’_ Grima pauses. Anri feels a twinge of Grima’s contempt, and then Grima quickly continues. _’But that wouldn’t persuade you. Nothing will persuade you but seeing the truth for yourself… Yes, now that I think about it, perhaps it is good you are fighting the Ylisse-Plegian War once more. I cannot fathom why you have such high hopes for a conflict you already know will wound your nation for years to come. But when the last of your hope dies, perhaps you’ll finally understand what I’ve been trying to tell you.’_

 _’Why should my hope ever die?’_ Anri thinks. _’Things are already changing.’_

 _’Do they truly make a difference, though?’_ Grima asks. _’Keep asking yourself that and you’ll see.’_

And Anri does ask himself that question. All the way home, he asks it. But between the Shepherds’ immediate adoption of Lon’qu, Robin’s pride in everyone’s fighting skills, and Chrom’s high spirits in the aftermath of the alliance, the only answer Anri can come up with is a resounding “yes.”

Unfortunately, the good mood doesn’t last long once they get back to Ylisstol. The pegasus knights have just been deployed to their new posts when news surfaces of yet another trespass along the Ylisse-Plegian border.

“They’re holding Maribelle hostage,” Robin explains to him. “It’s the Mad King himself doing it, apparently.”

“Maribelle wasn’t with us in Ferox?” Anri feels foolish for not knowing. True, he is no longer their commander, but if he had only paid more attention, he could have asked Maribelle to come with them, and then she would be safe now. But he didn’t know he needed to be on guard for something like this. Maribelle came to Ferox in his world.

“She went home to Themis to help her father,” Robin says. “I think maybe she didn’t want to join us now that I… Er, nevermind. Anyway, word is that some brigands crossed the border and kidnapped her, but now Gangrel claims SHE crossed HIS border. Now he’s asking for ‘reparations,’ apparently.”

“Dastard,” Anri growls. “This is obviously a trick.”

“Obviously,” Robin agrees. He pauses, then sighs. “The exalt’s going to parley with him.”

“What?” Anri exclaims. “She can’t! She…”

She will, though. In his own world, Emmeryn had tried time and time again to talk with Plegian officials, including Gangrel himself. They always refused. They never pulled a kidnapping stunt like this, either. They just killed her outright. Doesn’t that prove that the Plegians don’t really want to talk now?

“Chrom had the same reaction. He’s going with her, of course,” Robin says. “We’re heading out first thing in the morning. He’s going to tell the Shepherds later, but I wanted to say something to you first because, well…”

Robin looks down.

“Maybe I shouldn’t say this,” he continues. “Maybe it would be better for everyone if I minded my own business…”

“Hey, you can say anything to me,” Anri says, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder. He knows that expression of insecurity too well. “Besides, as a tactician, it’s hard to imagine what WOULDN’T be considered your business.”

“Hah, that’s a fair point.” Robin’s smile is humorless. “I just… I wonder if Chrom’s going to try to do something rash. I know he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Emmeryn to go, and I don’t either, but… I know they’ll be heavily armed. Doesn’t it seem convenient? If a member of the royal family attacks King Gangrel, we’d be declaring war right then and there.”

“Damn it.” Anri grits his teeth. He knows too well that Chrom could easily be goaded into doing exactly that. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know…” Robin says, sighing. “It feels like we’re playing right into Plegia’s trap. No matter how many scenarios play out in my mind, I keep coming to the conclusion that we’re going to end up declaring war that day. I know that’s not what anyone wants to hear, but…”

“You don’t want to be the bearer of bad news,” Anri realizes. “Oh, Robin… It’s not your fault. Tensions have been brewing for longer than either of us have been alive. I don’t think any of can do anything to stop a war now. All we can do is be prepared for it.”

“You think?” Robin looks down. “Maybe it’s horrible to say this, but it’s a lot easier that way. You can end a war by killing the right people. I don’t even know how you’d begin to go about preventing one from starting in the first place.”

“There has to be a way,” Anri says. “But I’m afraid I don’t know it, either.” 

His war started the same instant his reign did. What does he know about preserving peace? 

“I swear to you, though,” he continues. “I will see Gangrel to a quick and bloody end. We may not be able to avoid fighting, but we can make sure the people suffer as little as possible for it. I will NOT let him ruin more lives than he already has.”

“You say it with such conviction that I want to believe you…” Robin smiles faintly, only to quickly turn his gaze down again. “Say, Anri… What was your life like before you met me?”

“Er, what?” Anri blinks. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking…” Robin’s gaze flickers up to Anri’s eyes. Faintly, Anri can feel a sense of disgust that belongs solely to Grima. “That fire in your eyes… This is personal for you, isn’t it? He did something to you.”

“He did something to a lot of people,” Anri mutters. “Innocent people… Gods, I… I cared for them all. I swear that I tried to stop him. It was just too little, too late.”

“I see…” Robin grimaces. “I can’t remember anything myself, of course… But hearing you speak, I know. I know the suffering he’s causing. And I just want you to know that no matter what it takes, I’ll find a way to bring him down.”

“No one would ever doubt your dedication,” Anri says. “But please, don’t say it like that. There are some prices that are too high to pay. Like your life, Robin. Promise me you’ll never trade your life for one victory. Please…”

“I…” Robin frowns. “I don’t WANT to die, obviously…”

Anri stares at him. If he looks overly desperate, it’s because he is. No matter what Robin says, Anri knows he could and would do it anyway.

“If you’re that worried about it, I guess I can promise you,” Robin continues. “But only if you make me the same one. If you have the choice, you escape with your life, okay? If we’re killing Gangrel to stop our countries’ suffering, I don’t want US suffering instead.”

“I promise,” Anri says without hesitation. A flash of Grima’s irritation is quickly drowned out by his own intense relief. “I want to see a peaceful world someday. I want us both to see it, together.”

Robin’s worried expression slowly morphs into a smile.

“We will,” he says. “You and me, Chrom, and all of the Shepherds… We’re all going to build a better world out of the ruins of Gangrel’s reign.” 

But all too quickly, his smile falters again.

“But we can’t be rash,” he continues. “We aren’t ready to face their full strength yet. Even with Ferox helping us, we’re at a disadvantage. I’ve been reading up on Plegian history and current affairs, and it seems that after the last war with Ylisse, the crown has been hoarding resources and strengthening its military. They’re rich, they’re armed, and they have some of the most powerful mages in the world fighting for them. And no matter how I look at it… We have to plan our retreat once we rescue Maribelle.”

Anri grimaces.

“You think they’ll let us go?” he mutters. He wouldn’t put it past Gangrel to surround them.

“We’ll be close to the border,” Robin says. “And I don’t think they’ll follow us over it just yet. If they were ready for a full-scale invasion, they could do it now instead of making us come to them.”

“Alright…” Anri says, nodding slowly. What Robin says is probably true. After all, in his world, Plegia had no qualms sending assassins to the heart of Ylistol to spark the war. But that wouldn’t be until a couple more months’ time. After all, Ylisse is certainly no pushover to deal with, either.

Robin nods too, biting his lip slightly.

“I should go talk to Chrom,” he says.

“Oh…” Anri blinks. “RIght…”

 _He_ isn’t in charge. What he says holds no weight. Of course Robin has to go talk to Chrom.

“Thanks for helping me, Anri,” Robin continues, smiling slightly. “I feel… better… about what we have to do. Not GOOD, of course. Just…”

“I understand,” Anri says, and he truly does. How can any decision be satisfying when every choice is a matter of life and death? But his own Robin was always able to assuage the fear and doubt that churned Anri’s stomach. Anri would gladly do the same for this Robin “I’m always here for you.”

“You really are…” Robin says softly. Looking down, he bites his lip again. “Er, if you don’t mind me asking… How are the others treating you?”

“The… others?” Anri echoes in confusion.

“Yeah. The other Shepherds,” Robin says. “It’s just, I’ve noticed that you don’t speak much at mealtime, and I never see you drinking or playing cards or dancing with the others… They aren’t excluding you, are they?”

“Oh!” Anri starts with understanding. “No, no, of course not!”

He’s the one who’s been staying away. He can’t help it; the pain in his heart is too great. He knows more than he should about people who don’t know him. And besides, he doesn’t _belong_ here. Gods, he’s handing them all of his own problems and then abandoning them. He doesn’t deserve to pretend that he’s friends with the Shepherds of this world.

Robin must read something from his face, for his eyes soften sympathetically.

“I was wary at first, too,” he says. “But everyone welcomed me so quickly. I almost feel like I’ve known them my whole life.”

“I’m glad,” Anri says. And he is. He thought of Robin as one of the Shepherds from the moment he joined them. He’s overjoyed to know that Robin feels like he belongs. _Robin_ does belong. The Shepherds are a family.

 _’Fool…’_ Grima thinks. _’They don’t care for you as much as you care for them...’_

“As am I,” Robin says before Anri can fully process Grima’s comment. “I don’t know what my life was like before I lost my memories, but… I don’t regret coming here at all. I hope you don’t either.”

“I don’t,” Anri says. “I’m surrounded by good people. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Robin nods.

“They’re all good people,” he agrees. “And you can rely on them, I swear. Of course I appreciate you making time for me… but I imagine there’s only so much company an amnesiac can provide. And I don’t want you to be lonely, Anri. I don’t want anyone to feel like they don’t belong.”

Anri’s heart skips a beat. How is it that even now, Robin can practically read his mind?

“You shouldn’t spend your time worrying about me,” Anri says, forcing a chuckle. “Believe me, I never feel alone.”

Granted, the fell dragon is not the kind of companion Robin is imagining. But surprisingly, Grima’s company _does_ keep him from feeling too isolated when Robin isn’t around. Sometimes he even forgets that Grima wants to…

Grima wants to destroy this world.

 _’I don’t know why you insist on forcing yourself to feel guilt for aiding me,’_ Grima thinks. _’These people will be destroyed and your own will be saved. Is that not the premise of the war you fought? The war you’re going to fight again?’_

 _’It’s still wrong…’_ Anri thinks. _’No matter the circumstances…’_

_’Then surely you must feel the same about—’_

_’YES!’_ Anri interrupts before Grima has a chance to finish. _’Yes, every war is wrong! I’m as dastardly as the rest! And as if I didn’t have enough blood on my hands, I decided to help YOU. Letting you destroy a whole world is worse than genocide, worse than anything my father ever did. And yet I… I don’t have any choice. You’ve left me with nothing else…’_

“Anri?” Robin’s eyes widen. “Anri!”

“I… I should tell you, Robin—”

Suddenly, Anri’s throat feels like fire as Grima’s will fights his own.

 _”If you say a word to him, I’ll take over his will,’_ Grima threatens. _’Right now. And this time, I will not fail.’_

Anri’s determination wilts in the face of the too-serious danger. But though he stops trying to speak, he still hears his voice come from his mouth.

“I want Gangrel dead as quickly as possible,” Grima says in a perfect imitation of Anri’s typical speech. “So please, go speak to Chrom. Prepare not just for the battle we will face, but for the war ahead of us. And while you’re planning, I’d like you to do me a favor.” Anri feels his eyes narrow. “Figure out the quickest way to get the Mad King to fight me personally. I already know how to end him.”

Robin stares into Anri and Grima’s eyes. 

“Did you remember something just now?” he asks, frowning. “For a moment, you looked…”

“I despise the man,” Grima says in explanation. Anri feels his throat tighten, and Grima’s next words come out of his mouth in a growl. “He took away my only chance at living a normal life.”

It’s frightening how sincerely Grima says it. Frightening because of how true it is. If the war hadn’t happened… if Gangrel had never bothered them… he would be living an idyllic life, wouldn’t he? Emmeryn would be okay. His people would have peace under the reign of a beloved leader. He and Robin would live in that peaceful world, and Robin would never have to risk his life for a better world he wouldn’t live to see… Anri would not be chained to the fell dragon in a realm that is not his own…

Truly, no matter what happens to him now, Anri can never go back to the life he used to live. All because Gangrel refused to even _try_ to play nice with Ylisse. They could have worked together to improve the relations between their countries, but instead… Instead, Gangrel just wanted Ylisse to suffer.

 _’It wasn’t just him,’_ Grima thinks. _’The Plegian people held no love for their king, but they were not against the war. They wanted Ylisse to suffer for all it put them through. And your people… Do you really think they were any different? They wanted revenge for all the past fighting, too. You were the only one clinging to the hope that change was possible.’_

 _’Change is still possible,’_ Anri thinks. _’The people aren’t evil. They just need someone to help them.’_

 _’... They don’t deserve your aid,’_ Grima thinks. 

_’They don’t deserve to DIE, either,’_ Anri snaps. He hasn’t forgotten in his misery that he is still angry. He cannot understand how Grima gained followers in the first place when his goal is to destroy the world. Anri was swayed by desperation. But what could inspire a group as large as the Grimleal to worship a destructive god for a thousand years?

Once Robin has left, Anri gets his answer. Grima gives him back control of his body, and suddenly the weight of the conversations he has had today leaves him reeling. Exhausted, he sits on his bed and closes his eyes for a moment of respite. But it seems that Grima isn’t done talking to him.

 _’Would it surprise you to know that your history has again been recorded inaccurately?’_ Grima’s bitter laugh echoes in Anri’s head. _’I didn’t rise from the desert sands just to kill humans. I knew what they could do… but I still gave them a chance. I once helped them… Truly…’_

It’s hard to believe. And yet… There is no record of the fell dragon’s origins. According to modern history, Grima did not exist until the great battle with the First Exalt… But powerful dragons don’t just appear out of nowhere, do they? And certainly not with an army of humans allied to them.

 _’Yes, I had human allies. Though most betrayed me…’_ Grima continues. _’There were threats they were not strong enough to fight alone. They sought my aid. I do not know why I granted their request. Perhaps they looked so weak and pitiable that I did not think they had a fair chance without me. I did not yet realize that humans are always the source of their own suffering.’_

 _’Why did they betray you?’_ Anri asks. 

_’Because they are fickle beings!'_ Anri can feel Grima’s anger churning in his stomach. _’I destroyed their enemies as I promised. I razed cities and took down the foes they could not best on their own. I should have been a hero. But they all saw me as a monster. Though a few remained loyal to the pact between us, the vast majority of my “allies” turned against the rest of us. “You’ve awakened an abomination! Kill it before it destroys everyone else!” That is how they thought… ‘_

 _’And then you…’_ Anri sighs softly as it clicks into place. _’You were fighting to destroy them first…’_

_’They turned me into a monster, and I am glad,’ Grima thinks. ‘For I now know that this world was made to serve human whims and nothing else. So I will be the monster they desire, and I will end this unjust world they live in.’_

_’Grima…’_ Anri cannot rid himself of the sadness in his heart. If he could apologize on behalf of all humanity, he would do it, but… Grima would never accept it.

 _’I didn’t tell you this so you would pity me,’_ Grima thinks irritatedly.

 _’Then why DID you ?’_ Anri asks.

 _’... Perhaps I pity YOU,’_ Grima thinks. _’You only ended your war a year ago. You’ve spent the entire time pathetically mourning… Even Plegia knows… So you have not been much of a ruler.’_

Anri winces. It’s true. Though he technically became the exalt the moment Emmeryn died, the title was but a title while he was leading the war effort. And since then… He really hasn’t been a leader at all. It is impossible for him to make decisions without considering what Robin would advise, but every time he is reminded of Robin’s loss, fresh pain ignites within his chest. Knowing now that he will soon see Robin again, it does not hurt so much, but even so… He misses him.

 _’I do not think you can be the exalt the way you are,’_ Grima continues. _’The humans will take advantage of your ideals and exploit you for their own benefit. They will blame you when their actions backfire against them. And your heart is too soft to fight against them.’_

 _’What, are you actually worried about me?’_ Anri asks.

 _’... The steadfast humans who fought at my side were killed, too,’_ Grima thinks. 

Anri takes that as a “yes.”

 _’But not all of them died, right?’_ he asks. _’They became the Grimleal…’_

 _’They became the Grimleal,’_ Grima agrees. _’But honor does not pass through blood. They are as bad as everyone else. Continued allegiance to their ancestors’ god has not improved them.’_

 _’So you hate them, too…’_ Anri cannot help the sadness he feels at that thought, either. An entire country was built in Grima’s name. And he doesn’t even care for them anymore.

 _’I never asked them to do that,’_ Grima thinks. _’I have not betrayed them. They were the ones who decided to revive the god who swore to destroy the world. They are the least innocent of all.’_

 _’Do you not even feel pity for them?’_ Anri asks.

 _’Monsters don’t have hearts,’_ Grima thinks.

 _’But they were the ones who didn’t see you as one…’_ Anri thinks.

Moreover… if Grima is so heartless, why did he admit to pitying Anri? Why is he worried for Anri as the exalt?

Anri falls asleep without convincing Grima to answer.


	8. Chapter 8

Gangrel’s men await them on the other side of the border.

“What’s this, then? The exalt in all her radiance?”

Anri hears the awful voice before he sees the man it belongs to. He’s glad for the warning, as it allows him a split second to steel himself against the fury that rises in him upon seeing the Mad King’s face once again.

It’s a bit like a nightmare. The enemy he buried is alive and well, smiling sickly in mockery of Anri and all his efforts…

But no, of course Gangrel knows nothing of any of that. He smiles because he is cruel, and he is gleeful that he has the Ylissean royal family right where he wants them.

“King Gangrel, I’ve come for the truth of this unfortunate event between us,” Emmeryn says. Her voice is firm and clear. Anri has always admired her courage and resolve. There is no deceit or posturing in her words, either; she could end the war right now, if only Gangrel would work with her. 

“The truth?” Gangrel’s right hand woman sneers. “I can give you the truth.”

Her name is Aversa, but Anri can hardly remember anything else about her. Skilled as she seemed to be, she was always fighting in the background, never getting too close to the center of the action. And after Gangrel was defeated, she never showed her face where Anri could see it.

 _’She is Grimleal...’_ Grima thinks. _’But she is… brainwashed.’_

 _’What?’_ Anri thinks in alarm. _’Is she okay? How do we help her?’_

Guilt twists his stomach. He had not known she needed help, or he would not have just allowed her to disappear after the war. But he missed all the signs…

 _’There are no signs,’_ Grima thinks. _’Validar’s magic is keeping her true memories locked away, and he has fed her false ones. She believes he is her savior, the closest thing she has to a father. In truth, he slaughtered her family and her entire village. He desired to manipulate her and use her power for his own ends. He has not told anyone this, but I have seen inside his mind. I know everything that he has done.’_

 _’Surely there’s some way to fix this…’_ Anri thinks desperately. _’She’s a victim here. We shouldn’t be fighting her.’_

 _’What do you think you can do? If you break the spell, she will remember that she has no home, no family, and no reason to exist in the world. Is that kindness to you?’_ Before Anri can answer, Grima continues. _’Though… what does it matter to me? She should suffer like the rest.’_

 _’I wouldn’t just make her suffer through it alone!’_ Anri insists. But there is a bigger problem here: he has no idea how to break the spell cast upon her. And there is no time to think and to plan, not when there is so much else at stake today.

Like Maribelle, trapped in a brigand’s grip. Seeing her now with bound wrists and bruised arms, Anri’s stomach sinks. She didn’t go down without a fight, but with only her staves to defend herself, the brigands were able to get the upper hand. 

And it’s Anri’s fault. It didn’t happen like this in his world, so it must be his fault. This is proof that his actions can change the world… but if he does not curb his carelessness, he will only make things worse.

“Unhand me, you gutter-born troglodyte!” Maribelle screams.

Of course she does. Maribelle is no damsel in distress; she would never sit quietly and let the enemy simply pose her like some kind of doll. But her shouting does little but draw Lissa’s attention. 

“Maribelle!” Lissa nearly rushes forward, but Frederick holds her back just in time. She huffs instead, crossing her arms and balling her hands into fists.

Anri clenches his fists as well. He knows better than to run forward, but he so wants to.

“This girl crossed the Plegian border without our consent,” Aversa says with false innocence. “And what's more... She wounded the brave Plegian soldiers who sought only to escort her safely home.”

It is a blatant lie. No Ylissean would cross into Plegia. Not without a death wish. And Mariebelle’s staves left only the lightest of scratches on her captors. Given all the border crossings by Plegian bandits lately, it doesn’t take future knowledge to understand the truth of what happened here.

Maribelle explains as much, only… far more insultingly. It would be amusing if the situation weren’t so tense. As it is, Anri only wishes she had the self-restraint to remain quiet. But she is still so young… And that makes him fear all the more for her.

"Peace, Maribelle. I believe you,” Emmeryn says, calm despite the tension between them all. “King Gangrel, I request that you release this woman at once. Surely you and I can sort out these affairs without the need of hostages.”

Gangrel, predictably, will not listen to reason.

“Without so much as an apology?” he asks with a sneer. “Why should I even bother with parley? I'm within my rights to have her head this instant and be home in time for supper.”

Never mind that _he_ was the one to ask for parley in the first place, or that he could have killed Maribelle already if he felt like it. No, Gangrel has an ulterior motive, and they all knew it from the start.

Nevertheless, Anri has to take a deep breath to hold himself together. He has never loathed anyone so much. 

_’I would tell you to kill him now, consequences be damned,’_ Grima thinks. _’But his soldiers would be on you in an instant. I cannot have you die…’_

 _’I know,’_ Anri thinks. He can’t make his move now, no matter his desires. It was like this in his world, too. So many times Gangrel stood before him, and yet it took years to find the right opening (though in retrospect it was not good enough of one).

“You black-hearted devil!” Chrom exclaims.

Ah, but Chrom has not yet experienced the frustration of dealing with Gangrel. Like Maribelle, he can’t hold himself back…

“Control your dog, my dear, before he gets someone hurt,” Gangrel taunts.

Anri would say something to Chrom, but Robin beats him to it. It’s probably for the better. It’s easier to hear it from a friend than from… whatever Anri is to Chrom at this point.

“... told you… wait for…” Anri hears Robin whisper as he places a hand on Chrom’s arm.

“... know, but… baiting us... “ Chrom whispers back.

Anri sighs. He’s upset, too, and he doesn’t even have Robin to tell him to focus on the big picture. Nevertheless, he has to. This isn’t about satisfying himself. He’ll hurt the people he loves if he messes this up.

“Now then, Your Graceliness,” Gangrel continues. 

Anri grits his teeth. Gangrel respects no one, but it’s harder for Anri to hear his sister being disrespected than it is to be disrespected himself. She doesn’t deserve this… 

“Perhaps we can arrange a trade?” Gangrel smiles with all of his teeth. “You give me the Fire Emblem, and I return Mari Contrary here in one piece.”

… That’s what this is about? The FIre Emblem?

Even Emmeryn is shocked.

“You would ask for Ylisse's royal treasure?” she asks. “But why?”

“Because I know the legend! The Fire Emblem is the key to having all one's wishes realized. I have desired it for years. YEARS!” Gangrel exclaims. “Yet my birthday comes and goes each year, and nothing from Ylisse.”

Gangrel laughs, and Anri has to rethink whether the man actually has any sense at all. The Fire Emblem does not grant wishes. It seals away dragons. In his world, the shield was stolen the night Emmeryn was assassinated… but so were all the other valuable in the castle. Gangrel never used the Fire Emblem in battle, though. And if his wish was to defeat Ylisse, well, that clearly didn’t happen.

 _’... Everything in Plegia is done in my name, whether the people have faith in me or not,’_ Grima thinks.

 _’Huh?’_ It would be nice if Grima would stop phrasing things so cryptically. 

_’If Plegia has the Fire Emblem, you can’t do anything to stop ME!’_ Grima snaps like it’s obvious. 

And, well, Anri supposes it is obvious, now that he thinks about it. The sword and the shield, Falchion and the Fire Emblem… The First Exalt had needed _both_ to seal away the fell dragon a thousand years ago. 

_’Would it not be an easier task to steal the Falchion?’_ Anri wonders. 

_’Quick to try to help your enemy, aren’t you?’_ Grima’s amusement reads clear. _’But no… They would have to pry it from your cold, dead hands. The Grimleal prefer manipulation to direct confrontation.’_

 _’Ah…’_ It makes sense, but… _’Gangrel speaks against the Grimleal. Against… you.’_

 _’So why would he help them acquire the Fire Emblem?’_ Grima finishes for him. _’... What part of “manipulation” did you not understand? They saw his ambition and greed and set him up as their puppet. Aversa whispers into his ear, neither of them realizing that they are but tools to be abused…’_

 _’... It bothers you,’_ Anri realizes. _’This is why you hate your followers. You think it’s as wrong as I do.’_

 _’It is USELESS,’_ Grima thinks. _’The Fire Emblem is incomplete. You can never harm me with it in its current state. I am sure that Validar, at least, knows this. The truth is that my followers do not care for me at this point. They are greedy. They want to be the most powerful humans of all. They are worthless hypocrites. They know why I despise this world. But still they do this.’_

 _’I’m sorry…’_ Anri thinks. 

And he truly is sorry. It seems obvious to him now, with Grima in his head, that he fell dragon has never been as soulless as the legends made him out to be. He was sealed away mid-quest for vengeance, his anger stymied but not quelled.

 _’We can stop them,’_ Anri thinks. _’We don’t have to let this go on anymore.’_

 _’... If I destroy this world with you at my side…’_ Grima thinks slowly.

 _’No!’_ Anri interrupts. _’You don’t have to destroy the world! Don’t you get it? How many people are doing evil, and how many are their unwilling victims?’_

 _’You still don’t understand…’_ Grima thinks, sounding almost… disappointed. _’Power is what separates the villains from the victims. All humans are capable of betrayal, given the chance.’_

 _’We’re all capable of it,’_ Anri agrees. _’But few desire it. It’s our bonds that give us strength, Grima. Humans want to be safe and happy with their loved ones. Even now, do you think that most of our armies care about what’s going on with gods and kings and politics? They want to have food to feed their families! They want their children to be able to go outside without getting hurt! They want an end to their troubles! They want PEACE! And we can bring it to them! The world can change without being destroyed… I’ll show you. I don’t know how, but I swear I’ll show you.”_

He’s so caught up in his conversation with Grima that he almost misses the moment the fighting begins. He looks up to see two of Gangrel’s men rush towards Emmeryn. There’s no way he can make it in time to deflect their blows. Gods, why didn’t he stand closer to her? How could he let this happen? She—

She is not harmed. Robin removes his hands from Chrom—practically pushes him forward, actually—and Chrom is in front of his sister in an instant. With a cry of rage, he strikes down the lead soldier with a single powerful slash.

“Stay back!” he shouts. “Or you’ll all suffer the same fate!”

Though Emmeryn is safe for the moment, Anri’s heart still pounds painfully in his chest. He’s already seen her corpse once. He can’t… He can’t let them touch her again…

Gangrel doesn’t look at all surprised by the result. As Robin suspected, they played right into Plegia’s trap.

“Now that's a declaration of war if I've ever heard one…” Gangrel says gleefully. “A big, messy war that will bleed you Ylisseans dry.”

Aversa steps menacingly close to Maribelle.

“Poor, stupid girl… Are you really worth fighting a war over?” she asks. “Years from now, you'll be remembered only as she who destroyed House Ylisse.”

The words are untrue. Maribelle did not start this war, and even if she did, she is certainly worth fighting for. Nevertheless, Maribelle appears stricken. Anri cannot see if she is weeping at his current distance, but her anguished scream is enough to crush his heart. 

He has to save her.

But… It turns out he doesn’t need to. A sudden blast of wind magic knocks the brigand holding Maribelle unconscious.

“RICKEN?” Maribelle exclaims “What are you doing here?”

“What IS he doing here?” Chrom asks. “I told him to stay home!”

Robin shrugs.

“He didn’t tell me he was coming,” he says. “Did he secretly follow us?”

In Anri’s world, Ricken matured into a fine man by the end of the war… A far cry from his previous childishness. It would be just like a young Ricken to follow everyone out here, never mind that disobeying orders could get him killed.

But thank the gods for him being here today. He and Maribelle quickly escape and join the rest of the Shepherds, and not a moment too soon. Gangrel’s soldiers are on the move.

Gangrel, on the other hand, falls back. So he thinks he won’t fight them today? Anri narrows his eyes.

 _’You could catch him if the others distract his army,’_ Grima thinks. _’Perhaps we could end this today after all…’_

Anri considers it. But…

“Emm, you have to go!” Chrom insists. “If you’re anywhere near the battlefield, they’ll target you. You have to get back to Ylisstol where it’s safe!”

“I will escort you, Milady,” Frederick offers.

But Emmeryn shakes her head.

“No,” she says. “You are our finest knight, Frederick. You belong here, among the best of our fighters. The pegasus knights will provide me enough protection.”

“They can protect you from the air, but what if something happens on the ground!” Chrom protests. “I’d go with you myself, but I…”

But he is the leader of the Shepherds, and he cannot leave them.

“I’ll go with you,” Anri says, stepping forward.

“Oh, Anri!” Robin frowns. “Could you? I had you at the back… But if I put Ricken there instead, we should still be covered.”

“Anri…” Emmeryn looks at him, and though he knows it’s impossible, he still can’t help but feel that his sister can see inside his soul. “Would you not prefer to stay with your fellow soldiers?”

Anri pauses. He can’t protect Robin if he goes. And he can’t pursue Gangrel. But Robin isn’t alone, and Anri will certainly have his chance against Gangrel again. Emmeryn is the heart of all Ylisse. And if anything were to happen to her on the road, could Anri ever forgive himself?

“I want to see you safely home,” he says. “The battlefield is in good enough hands without me.”

“Then I thank you,” Emmeryn says, smiling softly. “I will accept your offer to accompany me.”

“Milady, is that wise?” Frederick asks. Anri can understand his fears; he has done nothing to make himself less suspicious in the knight’s eyes. Indeed, he is sure that Frederick and Chrom are more convinced than ever that he is an illegitimate heir, and the gods only know how many murders have come at the hands of jealous heirs. 

But Anri would never harm a hair on Emmeryn’s head. Surely they must be able to see that.

“Chrom would not have allowed him to come here if he did not believe in Anri’s loyalty,” Emmeryn says. “I trust his decisions, Frederick.”

She does not mention trusting Anri himself, but Anri cannot fault her. He has barely spoken to her.

“I know what you’re here for, Anri,” Chrom says. “If you care for Ylisse even half as much as you’ve told me, you’ll keep my sister safe. Won’t you?”

“Yes,” Anri agrees. “And you’ll keep Robin safe in my absence.”

It isn’t a question. This is no time for Chrom to forget to focus. He needs Robin more than ever right now.

“I’m going to be fine,” Robin says. “We knew this was coming. Don’t worry about those of us on the battlefield; just get the exalt to safety! Go now!”

“Right.” Anri nods, and quick as they can, he and Emmeryn make their retreat. With the pegasus knights flying ahead of them and the Shepherds protecting their back, there is a long journey for the two of them alone.

Anri did not expect to feel so awkward next to his older sister. Perhaps he should have. She is almost a perfect image of the woman he remembers, for in his world she dies in so short a time from now. If it is strange for him to be around the younger versions of his comrades, it is even stranger to be around someone who is exactly as he recalls.

It hurts to look at her. Even though Gangrel has just declared war, even though Ylisse is now fleeing, even though this is everything that Emmeryn never wanted, she still keeps her head held high.

Gods, he wishes she had lived instead of him. She is a leader unlike anything he could ever be. She would not have made the mistakes he did; she would have won the war far quicker. Ylisse needed her. _He_ needed her. But he was too weak to protect her...

“Is there something troubling you, Anri?” Emmeryn asks gently.

Anri looks up guiltily. He didn’t mean to worry his sister, but here she is staring at him with all the gentle warmth he is used to seeing from her.

“I’m only concerned about you,” he says. “I… I’m so sorry that things happened like this. Anyone with a heart would have seen how truly you desire peace. Gangrel is just…”

“King Gangrel is a man of his own ambitions,” Emmeryn says, sighing. “Perhaps I should have listened to my brother and merely sent an envoy to the border. Alas, I suppose I had to see myself rejected with my own eyes to believe it. We condemn others so easily, and yet often we do not even realize how little we know about the truth.”

“I know,” Anri says. She wants to be as unlike their father as Anri does. But she has nothing to fear. She does not have a spiteful bone in her body. “You’re a kind and fair ruler. That’s why your people adore you.”

“I simply desire to serve those who depend on me,” Emmeryn says. “After the damages we incurred during the last war— Ah, but forgive me, Anri. Did you grow up in Ylisse?”

“I… did,” Anri says, hoping she will not ask him for specifics. He can hardly say he was raised in Ylisstol. She knows the faces of its residents.

Thankfully, she just nods.

“Then you know what it was like, too,” she says. “We cannot go back to those times. I do not know why King Gangrel now seeks the Fire Emblem, but if it would buy us peace…”

“No!” Anri exclaims. Emmeryn quiets, blinking, and a blush rises to his cheeks. But ashamed as he is to interrupt her in this way, he can’t afford to keep quiet. “Giving him Ylisse’s broken royal treasure won’t fix anything!”

“Hmm…” Emmeryn frowns. “As you say, the Fire Emblem has been a broken heirloom for several centuries. It was meant to save the world, and yet... These days, our lives are threatened far more by politics and war than by ancient dragons. I cannot help but wonder… Is it worth it to fight this battle?”

“What do you mean?” Anri asks.

“The duty of House Ylisse is to protect the Fire Emblem until it is needed again. It is no overstatement to say that this is the very reason the House exists,” Emmeryn says. “But it is the essential duty of the exalt to protect the people of the halidom. I do not know what should happen if those duties not align.”

“I see your point, but…” Anri pauses. Even if, according to Grima, the Fire Emblem cannot save them from him in its incomplete state, there is also far more going on with the Grimleal in Plegia than they can see in Ylisse. “Giving the Emblem to Gangrel wouldn’t secure the people’s safety. Because it’s not about the FIre Emblem. It’s about…”

 _’What is it about, Grima?’_ he thinks desperately.

 _’... It’s about humans,’_ Grima thinks. _’Humans fighting the same useless battles they always have been.’_

Anri sighs, closing his eyes.

“It’s about power,” he translates. “We’ll never have peace if we give in right now. They’ll only ask for more and more.”

They have to fight. Ylisse will be consumed if they do not take up arms. 

That’s how it was in his own world, right?

And yet… If they must fight, and fight, and fight again for their peace… Just when does their peace come?

 _’Now you’re beginning to understand,’_ Grima thinks. _’It doesn’t come.’_

But despite Grima’s apparent certainty, Anri cannot believe him.

“I’ll take your words into consideration,” Emmeryn says, her gaze bright and genuine. “I have much to discuss with the Council once we return to the capital. I will ask for my siblings’ input as well once they reunite with us. I cannot draw Ylisse into a war we cannot survive, but neither can I allow another nation to take advantage of us. It is a delicate situation… But it is my responsibility to see my people through it, that they may find peace on the other side.”

“I know you will,” Anri says.

Emmeryn smiles gently.

If anyone can bring them peace, it is her.


	9. Chapter 9

Everything is different in this world. The war has come sooner. Ferox is their ally. The Shepherds are stronger and sharper in this world, for they have had more time to prepare. Robin practically has a sixth sense about everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Anri is literally prescient, and he whispers advice into Robin’s ear when he can. 

Everything is different. The events that happened in Anri’s world do not control here.

He forgets too easily that some plans do not change.

_’Chrom.’_ Grima’s voice rings out in his mind like an alarm, urgent and solemn. _’Is your other self in the courtyard?’_

_’Er, yes…’_ Anri thinks. _’I saw him go outside after dinner. Why?’_

_’Go to him now,’_ Grima thinks. _’Have your sword at the ready. I sense a presence… Validar is here, which means…’_

_’Assassins!’_ Anri understands immediately. _’They’re still going to try to kill Emm here!’_

It is sooner than it happened in his world. But of course, the war has already started. His sister’s death tonight would be not an explosive beginning, but a powerful defeat.

He’s out the door in an instant, his feet knowing exactly where to carry him. He will never forget the memory, the assassins rising from the shadows, several shouts blending into one, blood dripping down his skin, electricity in Robin’s hands but _it’s already too late,_ and Anri is helpless…

“Stay back!” he shouts as he bursts into the courtyard. Chrom is there as he expects. Unsurprisingly, Robin is beside him.

“Anri? What are you doing here?” Chrom asks, whirling around to face him. His back is to the assassins now. This isn’t good. 

“The exalt’s life is in danger,” Anri says hurriedly. “I had to warn you.”

“What, Emmeryn?” Chrom asks, frowning. “That’s absurd. She’s guarded at all hours. Anri, you don’t… look well.”

“I know you’ve been worried about her lately, but Chrom is right. She has every protection available to her,” Robin says. “Do you want to talk about your concerns? Maybe there’s something we haven’t thought of yet—”

“There’s no time!” Anri snaps. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it!”

He draws his sword, pointing it forward. 

“Come on; I know you’re there,” he says. “Show yourself and we may yet have mercy on you.”

“Death to Ylisse!” an assassin snarls, leaping out of the bushes. He runs not to Anri, however, but to Chrom. The orders he is meant to carry out are obvious.

“Not today!” Anri shouts. He feels a sudden surge of strength in his muscles—Grima’s power, he now recognizes—and he spins around like a much younger man. He slashes his sword against the assassin’s back, and the man falls to the ground before even touching Chrom.

“I trust I’ve proven my point?” Anri grits his teeth. “Plegia sent him here. There are dozens of others. You have to… You have to be careful. And you can’t let them reach Emmeryn.”

“Gods…” Chrom breaths.

Robin’s eyes widen.

“Anri!” he shouts. “W—”

But Anri’s body is already moving, responding to Grima’s will instead of his own. His blade slices flesh as he turns around, but he can barely feel its weight in his hand. This kill is Grima’s alone. Anri was unaware.

_’Pay attention!’_ Grima thinks, his voice roaring like the blood in Anri’s ears.

_’I’m… sorry,’_ Anri thinks. His heart pounds, but he does not know why fear is suddenly gripping him so. He must do better, though. He cannot allow himself to fail tonight. _’Thank you, Grima. If I had fallen...’_

_’How many times do I have to tell you I won’t allow you to die?’_ Grima snaps. _’Though my power is limited to YOU at the moment, so I’d suggest MOVING if you want to save anybody ELSE!’_

An explosion sounds from inside the castle. Anri runs inside, Chrom and Robin following immediately behind him.

“Where are the Shepherds?” Chrom asks. “I’m sure they’ve come running just as we have. Robin, can you gather everyone together? I need to get to Emm immediately, before…”

“Chrom!” Lissa cries, rounding a corner. Emmeryn is close behind her, guarded between Frederick on one side and Sully on the other.

“It seems Plegia has made its move,” Frederick says. His eyes flash with anger. “Our knights are fighting to keep them outside the front gates, but I fear they will not hold out for long.”

“Damn bastards!” Sully snarls. “It’s not even the Plegian army! It’s a bunch of hired thieves and murderers!”

“Chrom!” Emmeryn exclaims. “Take Lissa and flee while you still have time! I—”

“No!” Chrom interrupts. “We’re not leaving you! Just stay where it’s safe!”

He looks at Frederick and Sully, who both nod. They will take her to the most secure room in the castle, but it won’t be good enough if the assassins manage to break through.

“The assassins should scatter if we defeat their leader,” Robin says. “No money, no fighting.”

_’Their leader is Validar,’_ Grima thinks. _’You cannot let Robin face him…’_

Grima does not explain what the consequences would be, but Anri can imagine them. Robin is Validar’s son… What would Validar do to him if he knew he was here?

_’Nothing I’d like to deal with,’_ Grima thinks. _’I’m sure he will head directly for Emmeryn while everyone else is distracted. I suggest you cut him off there.’_

“I’ll guard Emmeryn’s door,” Anri tells Robin. 

“Alone?” Robin frowns. “If the rest of us take care of the killers, you should never see them. But if we make a single misstep…”

“I know the risks,” Anri says. “But we need everyone else on the main lines. Please, Robin. I will keep her safe. The gods are on my side tonight.”

Well, Grima is, at least. He isn’t sure Naga would approve of him anymore. But does it really matter at this point? Perhaps his feelings towards the god who still wants to destroy the world are enough to render him a heretic to his own religion. But when he thinks about the peaceful world he longs for… he can’t deny that he wants Grima to be there too, that he wants him to see a place better than what he’s known in the past.

“You’ve already saved my life tonight,” Chrom says. “I do not know if the gods are guiding your hand or not, but your actions speak for themselves. Guard Emmeryn’s door. We’ll take care of the killers.”

Robin glances between Anri and Chrom.

“Alright…” he says reluctantly. He places a hand on Chrom’s arm and sighs. “Come on; we need to hurry. They’ll break through the front lines soon.”

“Right.” Chrom nods. 

The two head forward down the hallway. Just before they round the next corner, Robin spares a glance back at Anri. But the moment is brief, and their eyes barely meet before Robin is gone from Anri’s sight completely.

“Stay safe,” Anri mutters like a prayer.

_’Worry about yourself,’_ Grima thinks.

For the moment, Anri is left alone with his and Grima’s thoughts.Sounds of fighting echo in the distance, and Anri can’t help but feel guilty that he is not fighting with the others.

_’But you are guarding the exalt,’_ Grima thinks. _’You cannot be in two places at once.’_

_’I know, but…’_ The truth of Grima’s words does nothing to comfort him. He is but one man, he knows. But people who could survive _die_ because one man’s strength isn’t enough to save everyone.

_’You won’t be able to save ANYONE if you run yourself ragged trying to save EVERYONE,’_ Grima snaps. _’Just give it up! People die because other people kill them! Not because you weren’t there! Do you still not understand that it is cruelty and nothing else that is ruining the world?’_

Anri heaves a great sigh. His mind concedes to Grima’s reasoning. But his heart can never accept it. Even his best efforts are always full of mistakes. He can always be doing something more, something better.

Gods, he will always try to do better.

He draws his sword the instant he hears footsteps in the nearby corridor. Grima’s displeasure escapes from his mouth in a growl, and it isn’t a surprise to either of them when Validar steps out of the shadows.

“Emmeryn was supposed to be an easy target,” Validar mutters. Raising his tome, he gives a vicious grin. “Ha, but no matter! Those who oppose the fell dragon will be destroyed! Bow down to his power!”

The blast of dark magic does not hit its mark, for Grima dodges before Anri has even finished processing Validar’s words.

“You would dare attack me with my own magic?” Grima asks from Anri’s lips, though he does not bother to mimic Chrom’s accent now. 

“What?” Validar freezes. His eyes meet Anri’s, and then his gaze shifts slightly to the right. To the red eye. “Who are you… Where did you… come from?” 

Grima chuckles humorlessly.

“I am the one you pray to,” he says. “Do you not recognize me in this body? You were so useless that I had to find better help.”

“I-Impossible!” Validar’s eyes widen fearfully. “It can’t be you! It can’t be…”

“Perhaps I’m not what you were expecting,” Grima says, shrugging with nonchalance that Anri knows he doesn’t feel. “Did you think I would run to you? That I would fight on your side of the battlefield? That I would make you more powerful? That’s all you care about, isn’t it… Being powerful…”

“Only for your sake, my lord!” Validar says. “All that I do is for you…”

Grima sneers in disgust.

“You do not care for me,” he says. “You care for your own ends. Why are you here tonight? You do not need the Fire Emblem. You have Sable in your possession, do you not? Destroy it and the Emblem is rendered forever incomplete. But you would not dare. In the hundreds of years the Grimleal have possessed it, none of you have dared. The Darksphere makes you powerful. The shield itself would make you more so, and if you could complete it…” Grima laughs. “Why, you could threaten me into doing your bidding, couldn’t you! I see it now! Why follow the fell dragon when you could control him?”

“Th-That’s not…” Validar stammers. “I… I never… I would present the Fire Emblem to you, of course!”

“You expect me to believe that?” Grima asks. “You are still gripping your tome.”

“I will prove it,” Validar says. “I will kill the exalt, take the Emblem, and place it in your hands! I will destroy Sable! I will destroy Argent! I will search the world and destroy every last jewel for you, my lord!”

He takes a step forward, but Anri quickly blocks him.

“Over my dead body,” Anri says. He cannot possibly imitate Grima’s accent; he does not even know where it is from. Validar frowns, clearly noticing the difference.

“I have not seen you among our ranks…” Validar says, narrowing his eyes. “You… You are not Grimleal… If you were, you would silence yourself! You bear the fell dragon’s spirit inside your flesh and you still dare to speak so brazenly?”

“I do,” Anri says. “I am Anri, and I do not bow to fell dragon out of fear. Grima is my ally. We are here to protect the exalt, and you will not stop us!”

“You fool…” Validar grits his teeth. “You cannot defend both the exalt and the fell dragon! Step aside; Lord Grima does not need you anymore!”

“Well, he sure as hell doesn’t need YOU!” Anri says. “You call yourselves the Grimleal, but you manipulate the weak and slaughter the innocent! Don’t you understand? You’re everything Grima hates!”

“What is one human life compared to the fell dragon’s?” Validar asks. “What is one million? In the end, all shall perish to his breath!”

_’What does any human life matter to me…?’_ Grima thinks. _’He’s right… So why do I feel…?’_

“That is no excuse!” Anri insists to Validar and Grima both. “In the thousand years the Grimleal have been trying to bring Grima back, none of you have done anything to create a world that he would WANT to come back to! Do you hate your god? Because it’s obvious how much he hates seeing humanity like this. You think nothing matters because you’ve achieved your goal and the fell dragon is here. But all you’ve done is placed a greater burden on him.”

“Enough! Your mundane mind cannot comprehend us!” Validar snaps, unleashing a wave of dark magic.

Anri cannot dodge in time; the magic hits his side and he hisses at the stinging pain.

“Stop this!” Grima commands. “To think you— You would attack me now? You reveal your true nature!”

Nevertheless, Validar does not stop. Anri manages to deflect another magical attack with his sword, but it merely hits the wall instead, exploding with a force that knocks him back.

_’He’s worthless,’_ Grima thinks. _’I will not go back to him! Not even for a moment! He is not merely disgusting. He is— He is—’_

Anri can feel Grima’s fury beneath the currents of his own. He did not know that he could further loathe the man behind Emmeryn’s assassination, and yet hearing him speak to Grima has hardened his heart even more. 

The term “Grimleal” is a misnomer. None of them are truly loyal to Grima. None of them truly care for him. 

His anger boiling over, he rushes towards Validar. 

“Your end has come!” he shouts, slashing the Falchion with all the force he can bring.

Validar falters, the magic at his fingertips fizzling away. The wound is deep. It will prove deadly if not treated soon. But instead of retreating, Validar lurches forward, grabbing Anri’s face with his hands.

“My lord…” he says. “My lord, I spent my whole life waiting for you… I bear your blood! Why would you choose another?”

Anri says nothing. But his arm, responding to Grima’s will, shoves the defeated man off of him.

“Because I like him better,” Grima growls. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Lord Grima, I swear I…” Validar coughs. “I’m your servant... Please…”

Anri presses his sword against Validar’s throat.

“Shut up,” he demands.

“You have…” Validar’s fixes his gaze upon the Falchion. “But that’s impossible… My forces already engaged the prince…”

“There are things you do not understand,” Grima says. “You will _never_ understand me.”

Anri grits his teeth. Men like this have given humanity a bad name in Grima’s books.

Normally, Anri does not take pleasure in killing, but he can make exceptions. The first, of course, is when he killed Gangrel. The second is right now.

“You would take away everyone I care for,” he hisses. “But I won’t allow it!”

In an instant, the leader of the Grimleal is no more. Blood drips off the Falchion, unable to stain the divine blade. It is only then that Anri begins to notice the pounding of his heart.

_’That was hasty,’_ Grima thinks. _’We might have used him still.’_

_’Are you kidding me?’_ Anri thinks. Validar fought against them with full strength. Hardly a prime candidate for an ally. And besides… _’You wanted him dead, too.’_

_’Well of course I did!’_ Grima snaps. After a moment, he continues more calmly. _’I suppose it doesn’t change our plans… Now that Plegia has attacked Ylisstol, surely you have every reason to head directly to their capital. We must separate soon.’_

_...Right,’_ Anri thinks. Something inside him begins to ache, but he doesn’t know why.

_’For now, you need to get to a healer,’_ Grima continues. _’You couldn’t have withstood that magic without my aid. You will feel terrible when the shock wears off.’_

He feels terrible enough now. His old wounds ache as they always do, but the fresh magical burns are his real concern. They will probably not scar, but he expects they will linger for quite some time. 

It is a little harder to breathe than usual… But despite his pain and exhaustion, he needs to press on.

_’I WILL go to a healer,’_ Anri thinks. _’Later. I must check on my sister first. I have to know that she is safe.’_

_’I am sure you have averted the assassination by killing Validar,’_ Grima thinks. _’The others will retreat now that he can neither threaten nor reward them. Yet, I know you will not relax until you assure yourself of her safety… I merely warn you to ensure you do not take too long.’_

Anri isn’t going to argue with that. His hands shake as he places them against the door, but he startles back as it suddenly opens from the inside.

“Anri?” Emmeryn’s voice rings out. “I heard you fighting. I thought I could…”

Looking at her face, Anri knows exactly what she thought she could do. That she could end the fighting if she gave herself up. Gods, he knows she would have done it. If he hadn’t been strong enough to fight off Validar, she would have done it.

Tears spring to his eyes.

“Emm…” he says, his voice breaking. Is that how she died in his world? Alone, hoping that her death would pause the fighting long enough to give her siblings a chance to survive?

Not even Grima could have stopped him from throwing his arms around his sister. His sister, who is _alive._

“You don’t even know how much the world needs you,” he chokes out. “How much I…”

He pauses. Only now that it is too late does he realize how inappropriate his actions are. He is a nobody, a strange man who keeps too much to himself, and he is clinging to the exalt like she is the only thing keeping him upright.

He tries to pull away, but Emmeryn’s grasps his wrist.

“Anri…” she says slowly. Her gaze is serious, but it holds no judgment. “You are no mere mercenary, are you?”

“I…” Surely Chrom has told her of his own suspicions. And if not, surely she must suspect on her own. She has studied the exalts of old more than her siblings; there is no chance that she could miss the similarities in his features. “I’m not quite the man I’ve presented myself to be.”

“And yet you continue to save my siblings and I,” Emmeryn says. “You’ve surely earned out trust. I will not demand your secrets out of you. But they are safe with me, if you need someone to divulge them to.”

“I… I want to tell you…” Anri says. “You’ll never believe me, though. And I… Gods, I…”

_’You cannot tell anyone about me,’_ Grima thinks.

Obviously not. But Anri recognizes Grima’s words for what they are—an implied blessing to say anything else.

“What if I told you that in another world, the assassins succeeded?” Anri proposes. “Your brother had to lead the country in your stead, but he could never match you. The war he fought was long and hard, and the price of victory was just… too much. So when he found himself in another world, a world where the future he knew of had not yet come to pass… he could not stand aside and allow the same fate to befall his loved ones again.”

“That is…” Emmeryn breathes. “Quite a story.”

“Do you believe me?” Anri asks. “I can show you my brand, but… if more enemies come—”

“Oh, Chrom,” she says gently. “I believe you. You’ve never been good at lying.”

Anri laughs, delighted and terrified and most of all, exhausted. 

“You have been through so much,” Emmeryn says, wrapping her arms around him. “I am sorry that I was not with you. But know that seeing you now fills me with pride. You have grown into a wonderful man. The strength of your heart shines through.”

Anri questions her praise. She doesn’t know how he’s failed her, Robin, his comrades, his country… No, she has no idea that he was led to this world by a string of failures.

And yet, he did manage to save her life tonight. In this world, his efforts to save her were actually _enough._

_’The exalt is alive,’_ Grima thinks. _’And the leader of the Grimleal is dead. You have changed the pieces in play, yes… But the game is not won.’_

_’We may not have won the war yet,’_ Anri counters, _’but at least we won the battle this time.’_

“Emm…” Anri murmurs, reluctantly leaving his sister’s arms. “I cannot let anyone else know about this. There would be too many questions that I cannot answer.”

“Not ever?” Emmeryn asks.

“Perhaps,” Anri says. “I do not know what course my life will take.”

“I understand,” Emmeryn says.

“And so, in case I never have the opportunity to say it again, allow me to tell you now,” Anri continues. “I love you, Emm.”

Her eyes are so sad, and he hates that he is the cause. But this is what must be done.

“And I love you, Chrom,” Emmeryn says. “Never doubt that I do.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Here is what we know,” Phila says solemnly, facing the people at the table in front of her. Normally, Anri would not be invited to a meeting like this, but given that most of what they know comes from his testimony, it was deemed necessary for him to attend.

“The assassins came here from Plegia,” Anri says. “Leading them was was a member of the Grimleal.” He does not say it was the _head_ of the Grimleal, for that would beg too many questions. Nevertheless, the presence of any Grimleal whatsoever is cause enough for concern. “He was headed directly towards the exalt when I crossed his path and took him down.”

“It isn’t clear whether the Grimleal involved were following Gangrel’s command or not,” Phila says. “There is tension between Gangrel and the faith, but…”

“The Grimleal could be using his orders as an excuse to invade,” Chrom says. “I bet Gangrel isn’t the only one who would do anything for the Fire Emblem… Emm, you can’t stay here! Come to Ferox where it’s safe!”

“We are already heading there for reinforcements, Your Grace,” Phila says. “It would be the safest option.”

“And leave the people undefended?” Emmeryn shakes her head. “War is at our borders, Chrom. Do you expect Ylisse to stand against Plegia without a leader? They must know their exalt stands with them.”

 _’Must their exalt fall with them, as well?’_ Grima thinks.

 _’She will not!’_ Anri snaps. _’The moment we have enough soldiers, we are heading straight for the Plegian capital. Gangrel’s head will roll before he has time to even think of hurting her again.’_

 _’All I will say is that stubbornness clearly runs in your family,’_ Grima thinks.

“But if something happens to you?” Chrom demands. Robin silently places a hand on his arm, but it does nothing to calm him. “What then?”

Anri cannot help but stare at his sister, though he quickly looks away when her gaze meets his. His feelings are in line with those of his younger self, but he cannot say that her plan is wrong. She is a symbol of hope to the people, and if she flees the country, that hope will flee with her. She has a responsibility to stay. It is the army’s responsibility to ensure that she remains safe even so.

“Your Grace, perhaps you might relocate to the eastern palace for the time being?” Frederick suggests. “The other kingdoms know nothing of it. You would be safer.”

“Your safety IS what is best for the people,” Anri says. “They need their leader, AND they need her alive.”

“Hmm…” Emmeryn sighs lightly. “Very well.”

At once, the tension drains from Chrom’s shoulders.

“Thanks Emm,” he says. “I mean it. We’ll escort you to the palace before we head north to the border.”

If only it were that simple. 

“Time to die, princey!” a scruffy-looking barbarian yells as he attacks Chrom. He has a whole troupe of men at his command. Sent here by Gangrel, no doubt.

 _’But… How?’_ Anri thinks. _’They weren’t supposed to know about this route. Unless…’_

 _’Unless you were betrayed,’_ Grima finishes. _’Look up ahead.’_

“Hold, sir!” the hierarch says. “I am the man King Gangrel told you about! Did you not receive orders to take me into your protection?””

“I've orders to protect a man, true,” sneers a Plegian wyvern rider. “But I see no man here! Only a pig! A rasher of traitorous bacon that sold out his own sovereign!”

 _’No...'_ Anri thinks with growing horror. _’How can that be? The hierarch was always a friend to us. He helped Emm when she was just starting out. How could he do this to her?’_

 _’Are you still shocked by treachery?’_ Grima asks incredulously. _’And here I thought you were paying attention to what I’ve been saying.’_

 _’I know! I know what you believe!’_ Anri thinks. _’But there must be some reason… He was threatened, perhaps— Or his family was— Or—’_

 _’He is evil, a coward, or both,’_ Grima thinks. _’Does that make you feel better? Even Gangrel’s men are disgusted. They are executing him for you.’_

Miserably, Anri watches as the Plegians kill a man he once respected. He is a traitor, yes. As despicable as Validar and Gangrel and anyone else who has tried to hurt his sister. But it is a heart-wrenching sight nonetheless. It didn’t have to be this way.

 _’Did he have no faith in us?’_ he thinks. _’We would have kept him safe.’_

 _’Traitors do not trust,’_ Grima thinks. _’They know that others will turn on them as quickly as they will turn on others.’_

“Phila, take Emmeryn to the rear of the column!” Chrom orders.

“Anri,” Robin says, stepping close to his ear. “Here’s the plan. I’m putting you and Frederick in the back. If anyone breaches our line, I’m counting on you to take care of it.”

Anri nods. He’ll be damned if he lets a new band of would-be assassins take his sister out now.

At first, it seems that they will be able to make a swift retreat. Chrom spearheads the forward charge. With Robin at his side, their sword and magic skills are well suited to take down the wyvern riders swooping in from all angles. The rest of the Shepherds keep the path clear as everyone heads east.

But then Cordelia shows up.

Anri is the furthest behind the others, and so it is he that she reaches first. He calls out to her as she flies overhead, realizing only belatedly that they have not been introduced in this world. Even so, she flies nearer.

“Cordelia! They told us you were stationed at the border,” he says. “Has something happened?”

Anri has never seen Cordelia’s face so ashen.

“There are enemy reinforcements coming,” she says tonelessly. “I must warn the exalt.”

“The exalt is with Phila ahead,” Anri says. “But Cordelia… Are you alright? Perhaps we should have Frederick run the message ahead.”

“No…” Cordelia shakes her head. “I must fulfill my sisters’ last request… I must warn the exalt.”

“Last request?” Anri echoes. He grimaces with the realization. “Oh, gods.”

Glancing behind him, he cannot see any trace of enemy reinforcements. But it is surely only a matter of time.

“Cordelia, you’ve made it,” he says. “We’ll keep her safe; I swear it. Please take Frederick with you and warn the others.”

“Yes…” Cordelia agrees. “Thank you.”

 _’This didn’t happen in our world,’_ Grima thinks. _’There was no assault on the border. There was never a mass slaughter of pegasus knights. Not all at once like this, anyway.’_

 _’No...;’_ Anri agrees. _’This happened because of my folly. I changed the world to save Emmeryn, but I had no plan to deal with the consequences. These women’s deaths are entirely on me.’_

_’I’m sure many of them died in our world, too,’ Grima thinks. ‘That tends to happen to those who serve during a war.’_

_’You don’t have to remind me. I feel their deaths as well,’_ Anri thinks. _’But in this world the pain is new and fresh.’_

 _’No, I meant—’_ Grima begins, but Anri’s attention is drawn away.

“Anri,” Frederick says. “Come ride with me. We must make haste eastward.”

“Are we to outrun them, then?” Anri asks.

“That is the plan.” Frederick nods. “If they corner us here, we will have no choice but to fight off the reinforcements. But it is unlikely that they will continue to pursue us past this point. They would lose the terrain advantage.”

They succeed in making their retreat, perhaps due to Cordelia’s timely warning, or perhaps due to the inexperience of the men Gangrel sent after them. It is not that the fighting is _easy_ in this world; it is simply that Anri knows how the Plegian army’s skill grows over the course of the war. By the end of it, there was no way for either army to avoid the never-ending clashes.

But though there were no casualties (among the Shepherds at least— Anri’s heart aches for Cordelia’s fallen comrades), the attack has still left them all shaken and unsure.

“I must return to the capital,” Emmeryn says, the only calm voice among them.

“Your Grace, I cannot advise—” Phila cuts herself off at Emmeryn’s gentle yet silencing gaze.

“I should never have left,” Emmeryn says resolutely. “If it's discovered I'm away when this news comes to light... The people could panic. Riot. More Ylisseans could needlessly die.”

Anri thinks she is probably right. If the people find out that she was attacked, they will lose hope. Lose faith. And if the people do not believe in her, might they not all follow the hierarch’s example? Turn against Emmeryn for something that is not her fault yet again? He has not forgotten the way the people spat at her when she first came to power. They looked at her and saw her father. It took her years to repair the trust that had been broken. If they begin to see the ghost of the former exalt again…

 _’They will attack her as soon as she displeases them,’_ Grima thinks.

Anri cannot believe that the whole country would turn on her at once. But the seeds of discontent would be sowed. He does not like it, but Emmeryn _needs_ to be at the capital keeping the peace.

“Here, Chrom,” Emmeryn says, pressing something to her brother’s chest. “I entrust this to you.”

“The Fire Emblem?” Chrom’s voice is guarded. He knows what it means.

“Take it to Ferox,” Emmeryn orders. “To safety.”

“And leave you?” Chrom asks. “No, Emm.”

“No part of House Ylisse matters more than the Emblem. It possesses tremendous power,” Emmeryn says. Her gaze flickers to Anri and back, then she continues. “But too much blood has been shed over it already.”

Anri frowns. It all comes down to Emmeryn’s dilemma. The Emblem or the people. Both could be considered the cornerstone of House Ylisse.

“I hope it finds a better guardian in you than it did me,” Emmeryn says sadly.

It’s the best thing she can do. In circumstances like this, she cannot devote herself to the Emblem and the people both. The only solution is to put one of them into another’s care. And surely Chrom is in the best position to protect the Emblem.

Chrom doesn’t understand. Anri wouldn’t have either, back then, but it is surreal to watch his past self panic like this.

“Emm, come on. You can't... Don't talk like that!” Chrom exclaims “You sound like you're ready to give up.”

“I am not giving up, Chrom,” Emmeryn says. “I am only giving what I can.”

“Emm, please! This is madness!” Chrom protests.

“Sis, wait!” Lissa cries. “Let me go with you!”

Emmeryn shakes her head firmly.

“Stay with Chrom, Lissa,” she says. “I command it.”

While Lissa lets out a wail, Emmeryn turns to Anri. 

“I don’t think I can escort you on this journey,” Anri says. He knows he cannot. He has to keep going forward. To kill Gangrel. To protect Robin. To fulfill his promise to Grima. If he is to do these things, he cannot spend every waking moment with her.

“I would not ask you to,” Emmeryn says. “You have a journey of your own, don’t you?”

“I do,” Anri agrees. “Thank you, Your Grace. For… understanding.”

“Your Grace, the pegasus knights will accompany you to Ylisse,” Phila says.

It is painful to keep watching the discussion. Cordelia, tortured as she is, is ordered to stay with the Shepherds. Knowing her, Anri supposes that it is probably for the best. She was always the sort to resolve her tension through hard work… Yet, she was never faced with such a personal tragedy in his world. Anri cannot bear to face her anymore, not with the responsibility he shoulders.

“Come, Phila,” Emmeryn says. “We must go.”

“No!” Chrom yells. “You don’t have to go! This is absurd!”

“Chrom, you don’t—” Emmeryn tries to say.

“Walking to your own death will not bring peace to anyone!” Chrom insists. “Ylisse needs you. WE need you! Be selfish for once in your life!”

 _’This is embarrassing,’_ Anri thinks. _’Was I truly so childish back then?’_

 _’You were as brash and stubborn as you are now, but lacking any experience to guide you...’_ Grima thinks. _’The gravity of war did not impress you until you were forced to lead one. You never see the truth until your eyes are pried open.’_

“I love you, Chrom,” Emmeryn says. “Perhaps I do not tell you enough. Both you and Lissa are my everything. As for the peace I seek... You cannot see who it is for.”

Chrom will understand someday, as Anri does. Emmeryn is a far better ruler than Anri ever was. She would never choose to be selfish, even if it were the easier choice.

 _’Everyone makes the decisions that serve their own interests,’_ Grima thinks. _’You are giving her too much credit, and still misunderstanding her, besides.’_

 _’What do you mean?’_ Anri asks, more than a little offended. As if he did not know his own sister!

 _’You truly cannot see how much you are alike?’_ Grima asks.

Anri doesn’t know why he expected an answer that wouldn’t frustrate him.

“I have to go. I'm sorry,” Emmeryn says. “I truly am. Let us embrace again in Ylisstol when you arrive with Feroxi reinforcements. I know you will come.”

“This is a terrible plan,” Chrom says darkly.

“The blood of the first exalt flows strong in us,” Emmeryn says, smiling gently. “You and I will keep Ylisse safe. I believe it with all my heart.”

Chrom does not look reassured. Beside him, Robin takes a step closer, speaking quietly into his ear.

“Safe journey… “ Emmeryn says. “All of you.”

And then Emmeryn is gone, carried off on the back of Phila’s pegasus.

“Emm… Emm?! Ah…” Chrom’s gaze follows her in the sky for a moment, but he soon turns back to Robin. “Yes, fine. We’ll… strategize… on the way to Ferox. The sooner we get there the better. Come on.”

As the Shepherds head forward, Anri takes one last glance at the tiny speck in the sky that his sister.

 _’I changed her fate,’_ he thinks. _’But now I have no idea what threats she could face.’_

 _’If your faith in humanity is not misplaced, you have nothing to worry about,’_ Grima thinks.

Anri wishes Grima would have just called him stupid. It would not have had him feeling so uneasy.


	11. Chapter 11

They are camped not far the Feroxi border when Anri finds himself approached by Robin.

“It seems like it’s been some time since we’ve been able to talk like this,” Robin says. “Either you’re not around with the others, or I’m busy trying to play tactician.”

“Speaking of which…” Anri says. “Does Chrom not need you right now?”

Robin shakes his head.

“He’s a bit too lost in his own thoughts at the moment,” he says. “He’s not paying attention to a word I say. I wish I could say the magic words that would help him, but…”

“I’m sure he’s glad just knowing he has your support,” Anri says, because that has always been true for him.

“I’m doing all I can,” Robin says. “But I truly do not understand what he’s going through. I don’t have any siblings… Or if I do, I don’t remember them. I’ve never had anyone to worry over like that. A family, you know… The closest thing I have is the Shepherds, but it’s different because… Well, we’re all here to fight. It will be different in peacetime… I don’t know what I’ll do when Chrom doesn’t need a tactician anymore.”

“Won’t you be able to do whatever you want?” Anri asks. “Duty won’t force your hand. You’ll be able to spend your time as you will.”

“I suppose,” Robin says. “Unless what I want isn’t in my power to get… Ah, but I digress.”

“You’re welcome to talk to me about it,” Anri says. “I’m always here for you, Robin.”

“It’s nothing important, really,” Robin says. “Actually, I wanted to talk more about you. Do you have a family to think about? Siblings to go back to someday? Or… maybe even family that you hope to get to know better someday?”

“Er…” Anri searches his mind for something to say, but as he starts to think about it… “There are rumors about me, aren’t there…” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“What? No,” Robin waves his hands in the air. “Ah, well, not public rumors, anyway. Chrom told me his suspicions… And the way you’ve been speaking to Emmeryn lately just seems…”

Anri winces.

“Let’s not START any rumors then, shall we?” he suggests. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have any secrets from you of all people, but the truth is more complicated than I could possibly explain. It’s better if my heritage remains a mystery.”

“I’ll have to accept that,” Robin says. “I would hate for you to lie to me. I won’t demand any answers, but… I would like to hear anything you could tell me about your past. Before you met me, I mean. I know less about your past than even my own, since you told me the basics of my history.”

“Oh…” Anri pauses. He cannot detail the upbringing of an Ylissean prince, but surely there are some general details he can give. “Er, I grew up as the middle child of a noble house. I had a few childhood friends as well, and we spent a lot of time training together. We were average children, really, but I… I’ve always had a strong sense of duty. It kept me distant from the others, I think. You were the first person that I felt I could fully open up to.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t remember,” Robin says, smiling sadly.

“It’s not your fault,” Anri says. “Trust me; the blame is entirely mine. You’d hate me if you remembered what I put you through.”

“I could never hate you.” Robin shakes his head. “You’ve done too much for me. That’s why I hate that I can’t seem to be there for you. Not the way I used to, at least.”

“Robin… There’s no need to worry about that,” Anri says. “You’re happy being here, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you look happier than when you’re surrounded by the Shepherds.”

In fact, Anri can’t help but wonder if he’d done his Robin a disservice. Monopolized his time too much. Unloaded all his own burdens on him and prevented him from being his own person. Because this world’s Robin seems so much more relaxed. So much freer.

 _’Don’t be stupid,’_ Grima thinks. _’Your stakes were higher from the start. Of course you two didn’t have time to go picking flowers with Sumia or arm wrestling with Vaike or whatever they’re doing in their spare time these days.’_

Grima is… actually right, but regardless, it doesn’t stop Anri from regretting that it turned out that way.

“Well… Yes, of course I’m happy here,” Robin says. “But surely I must have been happy with you, too. Tell me, Anri… Are you happy with our relationship as it is now? Is what we have… enough?”

“What do you mean?” Anri asks, frowning.

“This deep relationship you’ve told me about… This connection we still have…” Robin says. “I have to know, Anri. Were we lovers? Before I went and forgot everything?”

“Lovers?” Anri’s eyes widen. “Er… No. No, we never were. No, I mean— Did I make you think that I expected—”

“No, no,” Robin interrupts. “You haven’t done anything! I just… wondered, is all.”

“Did you… want us to be?” Anri asks hesitantly.

“To be perfectly honest… no,” Robin says. “No offense! You’re an outstanding man. And it isn’t as though I have suitors lining up at my door or anything. Maybe I should have wanted us to be, but…”

“But you have feelings for someone else,” Anri says knowingly. 

“... Is it that obvious?” Robin asks. “I… I shouldn’t even admit to it. it’s impossible, after all… A commander and his tactician? It would never work.”

“But you said yourself that things will be different in peacetime,” Anri points out. “You and Chrom will both be able to follow your hearts.”

“You think Chrom’s heart would really follow me?” Robin asks. “All I do is nag him. Not that I set out intending to... But every time he runs off to do something reckless, I stop being able to think straight! He’s not just our commander, or the prince of Ylisse… He’s so good of heart. The world needs leaders like him. If anything happened to him, I… I don’t see how I could possibly keep fighting. And so that translates into me yelling at him. He’s started calling me ‘mother’ while scoffing at me. Somehow I don’t think this is a good sign for my romantic prospects.”

Anri laughs. He remembers saying something similar to his Robin. Something about birds and their nests, too. Robin’s protective streak was always so fierce.

“Well, SOMEONE has to tell him to be careful,” he says. “What he does after that is up to him, but… I’m sure he appreciates your concern, deep down.”

“Maybe. He still asks me to sit beside him at dinner, so I suppose I haven’t fallen too far from grace,” Robin says, smiling. 

"Next thing you know you’ll be eating from each other’s shares,” Anri teases.

“Ah… Er…” Robin flushes faintly.

“Oh.” Anri laughs again. “Already, then.”

“It only makes sense to share when one of you is hungrier than the other!” Robin insists.

Anri simply continues to chuckle.

Soon, they fall into a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Robin drifts away to check on the other Shepherds, leaving Anri alone again.

Or as alone as he can get, obviously.

 _’He’s besotted with that man…'_ Grima thinks. No scowl comes to Anri’s face, but he imagines it in Grima’s tone anyway. _’As besotted as you are with him. You know… Had you told him you were lovers, I bet he would have let you have him, feelings for young princes aside.’_

 _’But he wouldn’t have been happy,’_ Anri thinks.

 _’You would have been,’_ Grima thinks.

But… 

_’No,’_ Anri thinks. _’I love Robin. I don’t think there is any world where I wouldn’t. But in this world, he isn’t… ’_

He isn’t the one who stood with Anri through his darkest moments. He isn’t the one who kept Anri’s company when it was too hard to sleep. He isn’t the one who sacrificed himself to ensure Anri would survive.

 _’I hope his life is filled with less sorrow,’_ Anri thinks. _’But there is only one Robin I could ever devote my whole life to.’_

 _’So that’s how far your dedication goes…’_ Grima thinks. _’You truly want him and no other?’_

 _’If he’ll have me…’_ Anri thinks. _’After everything I’ve done…’_

 _’... I am certain THAT will not be a problem for you,’_ Grima thinks. _’I cannot conceive of a world in which he would not be utterly in love with you.’_

 _’You wouldn’t say that just to make me feel better, would you?’_ Anri asks.

 _’Are you KIDDING me? I would never,'_ Grima thinks. _’I’m saying it because it is the truth. Even I cannot deny it.’_

It’s a strangely reassuring statement, coming from Grima… _Especially_ coming from Grima.

And the sense of assurance lingers for a while. The Shepherds are met at Ferox with the entire Feroxi army at the ready, even the khans themselves. This is far more manpower than Anri ever had to rely on.

But any optimistic feelings among the Shepherds dissolve before they ever make it back to Ylisstol.

“Chrom!” Basilio shouts. “Good gods, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Is something wrong?” Chrom asks quickly.

Such grave expressions are never a good sign, particularly when the appear on the faces of rulers.

“Our scouts reported back. Dark news I’m afraid,” Basilio says. “Ylisstol… has fallen.”

“What?!” Chrom exclaims.

Anri cannot believe what he is hearing, either. If Ylisstol fell… And Emmeryn had returned there… That would mean that his sister… No.

“The Plegians captured your exalt and retreated back across their lines,” Basilio continues, confirming Anri’s fears. “Gangrel has declared she's to be publicly executed within the moon.”

“E-executed?!” Chrom echoes.

Lissa lets out a moan, causing Robin to put a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“The dastard’s not even trying to be subtle anymore,” Flavia mutters.

“I agree. It’s an obvious trap,” Robin says.

“The Mad King knew our scouts would relay this information back,” Basilio says “It's clearly a provocation—a hot brand to the buttocks! We should consider our options carefully before jumping to any—”

“Shepherds!” Chrom announces. “We march to Plegia!”

The khans tell him to not be so hasty. Robin tells him not to be so hasty. Anri knows their points must be sound, and yet his heart is every bit the same as it was when he was younger, for the blood pulsing in his veins demands that he go to Emmeryn straight away. 

_’Why this? Why now? I was supposed to have saved her!’_ Anri thinks _’I should have gone back with her after all… What good am I here? Robin is doing perfectly well without me! But Emm… I could have saved her again…’ If only I’d been there..._

 _’I know you didn’t want to believe me…’_ Grima thinks.

 _’Be quiet, Grima!'_ Anri demands. _’I don’t have time to argue with you!’_

 _’... I won’t argue with you, then,’_ Grima thinks. _’I offer you my sympathy instead. To tell you the truth… I had started hoping that I would not be proven right.’_

It’s a surprising statement… and yet it isn’t, really. Who would want to see someone betrayed for a second time? For it must have been another betrayal… Ylisstol was too well-protected for it not to have been an inside job. It isn’t fair… Emmeryn came back for _them!_ For all the people of Ylisse! And this is how they repay her? What kind of sick being would want the world to be like this?

 _’Yes… You feel it too, don’t you?’_ Grima thinks. _’My hatred for this world’s injustice…’_

“Anri, are you okay?” Robin asks, and suddenly Anri is dragged out of his spiralling thoughts. “Your breathing is getting ragged… Do you want to go see a healer?”

“Ah… No…” Anri shakes his head. “This is just… a bit stressful for me. For her to be captured so soon after the last attempt…”

“I understand,” Robin says. “You became close after you rescued her. And she is not only the exalt of Ylisse, but Chrom and Lissa’s sister. I do not take this responsibility lightly, but I am equal to the challenge.”

 _’He promised Chrom that he would formulate a strategy to save Emmeryn,’_ Grima provides at Anri’s confusion. _’You really weren’t listening?’_

 _’I… I am no better prepared to see my sister executed than assassinated,’_ Anri thinks. _’It’s hard to focus at a time like this. And besides… I trust Robin to guide us down the best path.’_

 _’And what if he fails?’_ Grima asks.

 _’I don’t know…’_ Anri thinks. _’I truly do not know.’_


	12. Chapter 12

Ultimately, Chrom gets what he wants; the Shepherds set out for the Plegian capital. At the same time, it is probably far too slow a journey for Chrom’s liking. It’s certainly too slow for Anri. The desert sands force them to travel at a snail’s pace. Every second is agony on Anri’s nerves.

 _’I doubt Gangrel will act until you reach him,’_ Grima thinks. _’This is bait, after all.’_

 _’Funnily enough, that doesn’t comfort me,’_ Anri snaps. 

_’I’m simply pointing it out,’_ Grima thinks, infuriatingly levelheaded about the matter.

Their suspiciously quiet journey is eventually interrupted when Frederick approaches Chrom. The scouts have noted movement ahead, but it is not entirely clear what is happening, for though there is some kind of pursuit, Gangrel’s forces do not seem to be involved.

“AUGH! GET AWAY!” A young girl’s shriek soon reaches their ears. “Everyone just leave me ALONE!”

 _’Wait… That’s not a young girl…’_ Anri thinks as the figures come closer. _’That’s Nowi!’_

It was shocking to him when Nowi appeared in Ylisstol, wanting to enlist in the army. Or, rather, it was more that she wanted to aid the exalted bloodline in any way that she could. Slight as the divine dragon blood within them may be, it was the only connection to her tribe that Nowi had ever found.

In his world, Nowi had been accompanied to Ylisstol by her friend Gregor… but they don’t look much like friends at the moment. On the contrary, she’s definitely running away from him.

“You there! Fiend!” Chrom shouts, moving forward. “Keep your hands off that maiden!”

Thogh Gregor protests his innocence, his rough appearance combined with Nowi’s screaming has left him without the benefit of the doubt. Anri is sure they would have all worked things out eventually… But the process is sped up by the arrival of a much greater threat.

“Gotcha, you slippery scamp!” snarls a Plegian man… in Grimleal robes… “Prepare for a dose of Grima’s wrath!”

 _’Oh, they’d like to see my wrath, would they…’_ Grima thinks darkly.

 _’Shouldn’t they be a little more disorganized without their leader?’_ Anri asks. 

_’I doubt these fools even know what Validar looks like,’_ Grima thinks _’Much less that he’s dead. The religion is a means of control more than anything. It would not surprise me if this group was given some task by a superior who merely wanted them out of the way.’_

 _’What would they want with Nowi, anyway?’_ Anri asks. _’She hasn’t even joined the Shepherds yet.’_

 _’I am not certain,’_ Grima thinks. _’Could it be they were after her blood…? I shudder to think what can be done with it as a substance… No, surely they must be ignorant of the worst of it. The knowledge was buried…’_

 _’What are you talking about?’_ Anri asks.

 _’... Ancient knowledge,’_ Grima thinks, disgusted. _’Lost to the world for good reason. Don’t ask me for specifics.’_

 _’There exists knowledge too gruesome for even the fell dragon?’_ Anri asks.

 _’Yes,’_ Grima thinks, so uncharacteristically to-the-point that Anri leaves it at that.

The have a battle to fight, anyway. Though it slows them down even more, the Shepherds could never leave Nowi to fight off her attackers all alone.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Nowi shrieks as one of the aforementioned attackers tries to blast her with dark magic.

Anri runs to her aid, as everyone else is occupied either battling or trying to warn the nearby village people of the danger. Of course, by the time he reaches her side, all he sees is a large green dragon and a scorched corpse.

“I guess you didn’t actually need my help,” Anri says sheepishly. “Sorry, Nowi.”

“HUH?” In a flash, Nowi is back to looking like a girl. “Hey, do I know you or something?”

“Er… No…?” Anri says.

“Oh, I guess you just heard my name from Gregor, then,” Nowi says. “I have to tell him sorry for mixing him up with the bad guys. But if I don’t know you then… um…”

“Yes?” Anri prompts.

“This is going to sound SO weird if you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Nowi says, fidgeting. “But it kind of feels like there’s a dragon, um, hugging you? Spiritually. I’ve never felt anything like it. I was hoping maybe you were a dragon coming to be my friend…”

“O-Oh…” Anri stammers.

 _’Grima?’_ he thinks. _’Do YOU know what she’s talking about?’_

 _’I would call it more of a chokehold,’_ Grima thinks, irritated. _’My soul does not fit naturally into your body, especially with you still inhabiting it as well. If I weren’t holding on, your body would automatically kick me out.’_

 _’Even though I want you here?’_ Anri thinks. _’Er, so you don’t hurt Robin instead, I mean.’_

Yes, obviously that is why Anri’s heart skipped a beat. If he had panicked because he thought he would _miss_ Grima, that would be… Dangerous.

 _’Your mind has reasons to keep me here. Your body thinks I’m a parasite,’_ Grima explains. _’Don’t let it disturb you… I’ll have my own body soon, so it shouldn’t matter.’_

 _’Right…‘_ Anri thinks. Grima has been waiting months for exactly that result. Once he has a body… Well, for better or worse, everything will be out of Anri’s hands.

 _’It’s inconvenient that Nowi can sense other dragons,’_ Grima continues. _’You’ll have to dissuade her from talking about it. I believe my… sleep… started before she was born, so she should not recognize my quintessence personally. Still… we should keep our distance from her.’_

“S-Sorry, Nowi,” Anri says. “The spirit you’re sensing is someone I’m trying to help. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone. It would put the dragon in danger.”

“Oh… Okay…” Nowi says, clearly disappointed. “I don’t want to hurt your dragon friend. Everyone out there wants to hurt us… You must be a nice person to try to help out, though! And now you’re helping me! Be my friend, too!”

“Er…” Anri chuckles. “I’m not really as nice as you think. But you know… If you join the Shepherds, I’m sure you would make many wonderful friends among us.”

The Shepherds?” Nowi echoes. “But I’m not very good at tending sheep. I eat them!”

“Right, er—”

“I’m kidding! Not about the sheep part, though. Just the not knowing you’re an army part,” Nowi says, laughing. “I’ve heard about you, of course! Mostly from those guys chasing me. I think they said they DIDN’T want to run into you? Surprisingly smart from a bunch of dummies. I mean, they were after me so they could feed me to a bigger dragon! I tried to tell them that we don’t really do cannibalism, but did they listen? NO!”

“A bigger dragon?” Anri echoes.

“Yeah. Grimey or Grimdark or something like that,” Nowi says. “Never met him myself. I think he might be fake. These guys don’t know anything about how to take care of a real dragon.”

 _’I can never tell how serious she’s being…’_ Grima thinks. _’Has she truly never heard of me? Hmm… Not that it matters. It seems the Grimleal were only planning on a simple sacrifice. Good.’_

 _’I’m not sure I’d call it GOOD,’_ Anri thinks.

 _’Yes, yes. You’re aware of what I meant,’_ Grima thinks. _’Besides, you can see she’s in no danger of being sacrificed today.’_

“Hey, so is it true that your leader’s got divine dragon blood in him?” Nowi continues. “And do you REALLY think he’d take me on as a recruit? Because I think it sounds a lot more fun to be friends with a militia than to keep running around and getting caught by creepy people who want to auction me off. And if Chrom’s blessed by Naga, it’s like he’s a cousin or something! It’s not as great as running into my parents would be, but hey, maybe they’ll come to meet him someday too! We can have a family reunion!”

“I’m certain Chrom would love to have you,” Anri says. “I’m sure he would— Wait. I’m sorry; did you say you were auctioned off?”

“Uh-huh,” Nowi says. “To men more despicable than you could possibly imagine. They made me transform for them… They drank and laughed and called out tricks…”

“Oh, gods…” Anri had never known about this. In his world, Nowi hadn’t told him. He had asked about what she had seen of the world in her centuries of living, but not once had she mentioned getting captured.

 _’Somehow I doubt that’s the worst of it…’_ Grima thinks. _’But it’s hard to read her when she’s… the way she is.’_

“Oh come on! I didn’t mean to make you sad!” Nowi says. “I’m a fierce dragon, so don’t worry about me!”

“Sorry,” Anri says. She won’t know how deeply he means it.

“Cheer up!” Nowi continues. “You know what always makes me feel better? Wiping the floor with my enemies! Come on, I think I see a couple more dummies who are about to cause some problems for your friends! I’ll let you have the squishy one!”

“… Right,” Anri says. Eccentric as Nowi often is, Anri knows her to be a reliable ally. And now is no time to dwell on his regrets. “My strength is yours.”

At the end of the day, the Shepherds claim a decisive victory. Of course, it means nothing for the war, as it soon becomes clear that Gangrel had nothing to do with the Grimleal coming out here.

“I’m concerned,” Robin says. “Do we actually have two enemies rather than one? Our run-in today may have been unintentional, but we can’t forget that this same group was involved in the assassination attempt on the exalt’s life.”

“I don’t care who is trying to kill Emm,” Chrom says, “so long as we stop them.”

The battle has put them behind schedule, but even so, it won’t be long until they reach the Plegian capital. Nowi and Gregor are now their allies, a last-minute boon for the Shepherds, but Anri is nevertheless nervous. It took him years before he had the strength to march into the heart of Plegia. Here, the Ylissean army is at full strength and backed up by Feroxi soldiers. They are in the best possible position to bring the fight to Gangrel… But a trap is a trap. Gangrel is wild and difficult to predict, but he is not unintelligent. Anri fought the man for years, yet his experience offers him no comfort. And with his sister’s life at stake… _again_... the uncertainty plagues his mind at every waking moment. And when he tries to sleep, his body aches as if to remind him of the string of failures that has gotten him to this point. 

_’You’re not going to be able to fight if you continue on like this,’_ Grima thinks. _’Stop staring at the inside of your eyelids and get up if you’re not able to sleep.’_

 _‘Oh, right…'_ Anri thinks. _’I guess you have to deal with my restlessness as much as I do.’_

 _’At least play solitaire or SOMETHING,’_ Grima thinks.

Sighing, Chrom pulls out a deck of cards he picked up back in Ylisstol. He has never been good at gambling games, largely owing to his inability to maintain a poker face. Single-player games are far simpler… or so he thought, but he quickly ends up stumped.

 _’Your strategy is terrible,’_ Grima thinks, amused.

 _’There’s a strategy to solitaire?’_ Anri frowns. _’Isn’t it just about sorting and luck?’_

 _’You’ll never win if you do it that way,’_ Grima thinks as Anri reshuffles his cards.

Anri plays another round with Grima’s disapproving hums as background noise until he finally loses again.

 _’Fine,’_ he thinks. _’What would YOU do, Grima?’_

 _’Since you asked…’_ Grima thinks, far too smug over what is only a game. _’First, DON’T move that card until you have something to fill its place…. Yes… And then…’_

Somehow, the fell dragon manages to be incredibly good at it. Anri is curious to know where he picked up the rules to a human game like this, but given Grima’s history with humanity, he decides not to push it. After all, Grima actually seems to be having a good time right now.

At some point in the night, Anri finally falls asleep. In his dreams, Robin’s voice tries to tell him how to beat Grima at cards, but all he can see around him is darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

As if on cue, as soon as the Shepherds get close enough to the Plegian capital, they get their first news of Gangrel since Emmeryn was captured.

“The exalt is to be executed at the castle on the morrow,” one of the Ylissean spies says. “I heard it from the king's own lips, sire.”

“This is it, then,” Basilio says.

“Exactly as you predicted, Robin,” Chrom says.

“So far, yes,” Robin agrees. “But tomorrow will be the true test…”

 _’He looks so strained’_ Anri thinks. _’Do you think we’ve all put too much pressure on him? I know he’s the best tactician in all the lands… But so much is riding on this. Emm’s life… Our lives… The stage for the whole war will be set today. And I think Chrom is too worked up to consider how Robin feels about it.’_

 _’And if he fails, he’ll be fired from the job,’_ Grima thinks. _’Kicked out from the only group of people he knows in this world.’_

 _’The Shepherds would never do that to him!’_ Anri protests.

 _’And how would he know that?’_ Grima asks.

 _’You really think he’d think something like that?’_ Anri frowns. _’Gods… I’m going to go talk to him.’_

“Hey, Robin,” he greets. “Feeling alright? You look exhausted.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Robin says. “Have you been sleeping at all lately? You’re getting dark circles under your eyes.”

“War puts stress on everyone,” Anri says, shaking his head. “You, though… You’ve got more pressure on you than anyone else.”

“Not as much as Chrom,” Robin disagrees. “He’s our leader, after all. And all he can do is put his hopes on me… It must be terrifying. If I’m not good enough, he… He’ll…”

Robin choking up tells Anri all he needs to know.

“He won’t blame you,” Anri says, placing his hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Your plan is as good as anything that could ever be devised. But Gangrel is a crafty man, too. He started his life in the gutters and rose to power through skill and cunning.”

“So I’ve heard,” Robin says. “They say he was driven mad by his own ambition. Awful, isn’t it? A bright, resourceful king could have led his people to greater things… Could have led the world to greater things… But instead, here we are, fighting over stupid symbols of power, struggling just to keep the world from getting even worse…”

“I know…” Anri says, sighing. “Even when you win the war, you feel like you’ve lost something more important.”

“Emmeryn is… amazing,” Robin says. “From what everyone’s told me, anyway. And from what I’ve seen. She’s done so much to promote peace! Do you know how precious that is? We can’t lose someone like that! We can’t lose her!”

“I…” Now it’s Anri’s turn to choke up. He knows exactly how precious his sister is. “I agree… And we—that is, ALL of us—are going to do whatever it takes to save her. So don’t take this all on your own shoulders. You have the support of all of the Shepherds. Whatever we have to face tomorrow, we’re behind you all the way.”

“... You’re right,” Robin says. “I may be the tactician, but strategies are worthless without the support of the people carrying them out. I… I can’t afford to make this all about myself. It will take everyone’s best efforts—AND a lot of luck on top of it—to pull this off. But that’s how all battles go. You never know the outcome until the day is done. All you can do is trust in the allies that are with you. I may not have been a Shepherd for very long, but somehow, I know… I would never find better allies anywhere.”

“Wow, that was heartwarming!” Lissa exclaims.

“Wha— Lissa, ah—” Robin flushes. “How much of that did you hear?”

“I’v been over here sInce the part where Anri said we’re all with you,” Lissa says cheerfully. “I was going to agree, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“…Right.” Robin sighs. “Sorry about that. Was there something you needed?”

“Frederick says it's time to march,” Lissa says. “And like you said, this plan’s going to take everyone!”

The march is uneventful. Gangrel waits until they are within earshot to begin his dramatic performance.

“Good people! Warriors of Plegia! Welcome! Welcome, one and all! Your anticipation electrifies the air!” he announces, as though this were some sort of circus. “We ALL remember the crimes of Ylisse... Would you have their witch-queen answer for them? Here? Today? NOW?”

A roar rises from the crowd. It is not a joyful sound, but Gangrel responds to the people’s anger the same way a ringleader would respond to cheers.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEES! Finally, we will have JUSTICE!” Gangrel booms. “EXECUTIONER! If you would be so kind…”

Emmeryn stands alone, nothing but a cliff and her would-be executioner behind her. There is nowhere for her to run. Anri’s heart races, but this is all part of Robin’s plan.

“Flavia!” Robin signals.

“I’ve got him!” Flavia shouts, letting her axe fly.

The axe hits true, knocking the executioner off the cliff. To his death.

 _’THIS is justice,’_ Grima thinks. _’Not whatever this despicable creature is preaching. This is a farce! A sick show to justify sicker acts! Emmeryn wasn’t the one who harmed them… She… She should never have been the target of their anger…’_

 _’If he wants a show, let him have it,’_ Anri thinks. _’He knew this would enrage us. But he’s wrong if he thinks we’ll let our anger blind us.’_

“EVERYONE: NOW!” Robin shouts, and the battle truly begins.

“Take out all the soldiers first!” Chrom orders. “We'll deal with the Mad King later!”

If Anri were stationed closer to the front, he is not sure he would be able to resist disobeying Chrom’s orders. He has fought this man before. He knows Gangrel’s tricks. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did last time they fought, and if he were to finish Gangrel now, Robin would never have the chance to go anywhere near him.

 _’But he still has Emmeryn within his soldiers’ range,’_ Grima thinks. _’If you approach, he will use her as a hostage. He obviously would not have come out here if he had not planned a way to protect himself.’_

 _’Damn it,’_ Anri thinks. _’He’s so close, and yet I’m powerless against him.’_

 _’I don’t like it any more than you do,’_ Grima thinks. _’Had I my ancient form I would tear the man limb from limb… I could devour him would it not turn my stomach… or perhaps I might roast him alive with my breath…’_

 _’Yes… I know… I’ve had my sword lodged in his chest once already, and it doesn’t seem like enough. For all the pain he’s caused, for all the pain he will cause, such a man deserves an unglamorous death,’_ Anri thinks. _’But… until Emm’s life is no longer at stake, all we can do is follow Robin’s plan.’_

Time seems to rush past him, and Anri can barely get one attack in before someone else is coming in to finish the job. Amidst some of the best soldiers from Ylisse, Ferox, and Plegia, he is acutely aware of how weak he is by comparison. For all that his training has left him a capable enough fighter, all it takes is one glance at Chrom single-handedly shredding through an enemy formation to hammer in the reality that he will never reach the full potential he could have had. 

Gods, even if he had a straight shot at Gangrel, should he be the one to take it? Or should he properly leave it to the younger, better version of himself? 

And as if that weren’t bad enough...

 _’Grima, aren’t you going to lend me your power this time?’_ he asks.

 _’...No,’_ Grima thinks. He does not elaborate.

 _’Why not? I don’t understand!’_ Anri thinks. _’We can save Emm more quickly! We can get to Gangrel! Why stop helping me NOW?’_

 _’If you don’t understand, then you don’t need to know,’_ Grima thinks firmly. _’Besides, I haven’t stopped—axe to your right—helping you, see?’_

Anri parries the blow, letting out a frustrated growl. One moment, he’s sure he understands Grima more than anyone ever has, then the next, he’s sure he can’t understand anything Grima ever says.

 _’What could you possibly have to hide from me NOW?’_ he asks. _’Even if I don’t like it, is there anything I can do about it?’_

 _’Focus on fighting,’_ Grima demands. 

Anri wants to argue more, but…

 _’... I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.’_ Grima thinks. 

And Anri can feel the surge of protectiveness as if it belonged to him. Whatever Grima is doing, he really is trying to help.

 _’Alright. Keep it to yourself, then,’_ Anri relents. _’I’ve learned to give you my trust, Grima… Someday I hope you’ll see that you can trust me, too.’_

Without Grima’s power boosting his strength, Anri has to adjust his strategy. Instead of rushing forward into the fray, he scans the battlefield for anywhere he might slip in and help out. He can be of some use, at least, if he can free a stronger fighter to take on another enemy.

Plus, being watchful has its advantages. Were he not looking carefully, he would not notice the figure slipping away from the battlefield.

 _’Isn’t that…?’_ he thinks.

“Aversa?” he calls out, and the woman freezes in her tracks.

“I’m not interested in fighting you, Ylissean,” she snaps, though she raises her tome defensively. But as Anri draws closer, her eyes widen. “You… Who are you?”

“My name is Anri,” he says. “I’m a soldier of Ylisse, yes, but I won’t attack if you won’t.”

“Anri…” Aversa repeats. “They say that is the name of the man who saved the exalt’s life in Ylisstol…”

“I did,” Anri says.

“Then you must have seen him,” Aversa says. “Validar… The mastermind behind almost everything that has happened in Plegia during the past several decades… What became of him?”

“I killed him myself,” Anri says. “He threatened everyone I love. I refused to let him succeed.”

“So he’s actually dead…” Aversa murmurs. “I knew it… And yet, I know nothing at all. My memories don’t add up…”

 _’With Validar’s death, there is no one to keep his curses going,’_ Grima thinks. _’His magic stole her memories, then he crafted a false narrative with his words. If his spell is fading… The memories she recovers will not be what she believes they should be.’’_

“And so you are fleeing until you can make sense of it all,” Anri says. “What will you do when you find the truth?”

“I suppose that depends on what I find,” Aversa says. “… You’re truly going to let me go?”

“I cannot spare you the pain you are going through. The least I can do is spare your life,” Anri says. “Right now, all that matters to me is saving the exalt and stopping this war. Not cutting down someone who doesn’t want to fight anymore.”

“Huh.” Aversa shakes her head. “I didn’t know Ylisseans ever held back… Ha, but this is just another piece of truth’s puzzle, isn’t it?”

Anri watches her retreat. She makes it out of sight just in time; any later and she would likely have been trapped by the Plegians falling back.

“Robin!” Chrom calls out. “Their wyvern riders have fallen! The skies are clear! I'm giving the signal!”

At Chrom’s command, a team of pegasus knights flies in, Phila at their center.

“Your Grace!” she calls, swooping down towards Emmeryn’s cliff.

“Phila! I’m so glad to see you’re safe!” Emmeryn says. “But how—”

“Khan Basilio’s men freed me,” Phila says. “Come on, we must hurry!”

“What? Pegasus knights? How did they… That damned Ylissean tactician does NOT play fair!” Gangrel shouts. Then, suddenly, he breaks into laughter. “But neither do I!”

At his words, several archers run onto the battlefield, arrows at the ready.

“Reinforcements? They must have been getting ready while we chased their allies back…” Robin says. “Chrom! They’re everywhere!”

“Damn!” Chrom curses. “Not now!”

“Oh no, were there archers hiding out there?” Gangrel laughs. “You didn’t think King Gangrel FORGOT about Ylisse’s most favoritest little pure-hearted pets, did you? It wouldn’t do to have you flying off into the sunset just like that. This isn’t YOUR happily-ever-after; it’s MINE!”

One of the archers shoots at Phila, bringing her down. One by one, each of the pegasus knights is picked off. Someone should move. The pegasus knights should fly away. Someone should attack the archers. Someone should do _something,_ but it’s as though they’re all frozen in place.

“No, no, no,” Robin moans, putting his face into his hands.

“We’ve lost…” Chrom whispers.

 _’This can’t be happening…’_ Anri thinks. _’Phila… all those pegasus knights… They shouldn’t have died…. And now…’_

 _’It wasn’t as though we weren’t aware of this possibility,’_ Grima thinks. _’The plan relied on Gangrel not being prepared for fliers. Granted, he had all of the pegasus knights imprisoned. His ego could have blinded him… But clearly he did not want to take risks with this plan. No doubt it has been in motion for years.’_

 _’Years plotting murder…’_ Anri thinks.

 _’Years plotting revenge…’_ Grima thinks.

“I… I’ll kill you!” Chrom’s roar pulls Anri out of his thoughts.

“Go ahead! I welcome it,” Gangrel sneers. “Just know you were responsible for Big Sister's bloody demise!”

 _’If any of us move, every archer will shoot,’_ Anri thinks. _’There’s no way for us to reach them all in time… And there is no way ALL of them would miss.’_

“And what of the rest of you? Eh? Who wants the honor of killing the exalt? No one?” Gangrel taunts. But all of the Shepherds are as aware as Anri is that they are trapped. ”Bah! Your merry band isn't quite so headstrong anymore, is it? Pathetic!”

“Damn you!” Chrom shouts.

“Now, now, my boy—no one needs die today,” Gangrel mockingly soothes. “Not you. Not the exalt. Not your friends. Just lay down your sword, and give me the Fire Emblem.”

“… I…” Chrom hesitates.

 _’He has to do it,’_ Anri thinks. _’He has to! So what if Gangrel gets the Emblem? He can’t use it any more than we can! And we can take it back! It will be a blow to our pride, to our House’s name, but in a situation like this there’s no other choice! Anything is better than losing Emm forever!’_

 _’You know it wouldn’t work like that,’_ Grima thinks. _’Think about it. Chrom goes up there alone with the Fire Emblem. Gangrel kills him, the archers shoot Emmeryn, and his soldiers come rushing out to kill the rest of us. That is by far the most likely outcome.’_

“Chrom! You can’t trust him!” Robin exclaims, presumably having figured out the same thing.

“Of COURSE I can’t trust him! I’m not an idiot!” Chrom shouts. “But if I just say no, he'll kill her!”

 _’The only way we can POSSIBLY save her is if we at least pretend to give him the Emblem,’_ Chrom thinks.

 _’You think he doesn’t know that?’_ Grima asks. _’If he had a plan for pegasus knights, he’ll have a plan for this. You’ll ALL die.’_

“The gods are cruel, damn them!” Chrom growls. “My sister or my duty... A problem with no right answer, yet I must choose!”

“Don’t give up!” Robin insists. “There has to be a way…”

“If there is, I can’t see it,” Chrom says miserably. “Ah, gods!”

“I will count to three!” Gangrel says as though the Shepherds were misbehaving children. “Throw down your weapons, or your exalt becomes the world's largest quiver. One! Two! Thr—”

“Gangrel, hold!” Chrom shouts. “You win. Everyone, lay down yo—”

“No, wait!” Emmeryn cries from the cliff.

“SILENCE!” Gangrel bellows.

 _’As if she would listen to him now,’_ Grima thinks. _’She has no reason to follow his orders when she’s dead from every angle.’_

“King Gangrel, is there no hope you will listen to reason?” Emmeryn asks, the epitome of grace. Even now, she shows no fear in the face of the Plegian king.

“You mean listen to more of your sanctimonious babble?! I think not,” Gangrel spits. “No, all I want to hear now is the THUNK of arrows, and a SPLAT as you hit the ground. Take one, long, last look from your perch. You do so enjoy looking down on people... Then prepare to meet the ground, and your maker! That is, unless someone were to give me the Emblem... NOW!”

 _’The longer this goes, the more I wonder…’_ Grima thinks, _’if perhaps he truly believes his twisted story.’_

“ALL RIGHT! All right…” Chrom throws his sword to the ground. “Emm, I know you won't approve, but this is my final decision. MAYBE someday we'll face a crisis where MAYBE the Emblem would've helped... But I know for a fact that Ylisse needs you, today! The people need their exalt... And we need our sister. If those dark days should come, we'll face them together.”

 _’Yes, exactly,’_ Anri thinks. _’We can always look for another way… As long as we’re alive…’_

“Chrom… Th-Thank you,” Emmeryn says. “I know now what I must do.”

She turns, not to the Shepherds, but to the Plegian people.

“Plegians! I ask that you hear the truth of my words!” she says. Every eye is on her. In all her time as the exalt, she has spoken again and again to the Ylissean people, but never has she addressed the Plegians. In fact, Anri is sure that no exalt has ever turned to the Plegian public like this, except perhaps to insult them. “War will win you nothing but sadness and pain, both inside your borders and out. Free yourselves from this hatred! From this cycle of pain and vengeance. Do what you must... As I will do. See now that one selfless act has the power to change the world!”

 _’What does she mean…? No…’_ Anri thinks. _’No, no, she can’t!’_

Emmeryn turns his way before she does it. He knows she must see him, even so far away. She knows who he is, knows what he’s been through, and still, _still,_ she walks to the edge of that gods-damned cliff and…

There is a deafening silence. No one, not even Gangrel, has the words to defy her in this moment.

 _’You don’t have to look,’_ Grima suggests. It’s almost gentle.

But he does have to. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t watch her as she steps off the edge and plummets, ever calm, ever fearless, downward towards this land that is so far from home.

It is, perhaps in some objective sense, a more poetic death than falling to assassins. But it is no less painful to the ones left behind.

 _’She’s gone… She’s gone, just like that…’_ Anri thinks. _”After everything, I couldn’t keep her safe. I failed her. I failed everyone. I came to this world and made it WORSE. Emm is dead. Phila is dead. Nearly all our pegasus knights are dead. Feroxi soldiers are dead. Not only could I not save my sister, I’ve killed MORE people! Gods, what have I DONE?’_

 _’You shouldn’t blame yourself,’_ Grima thinks. _’Regardless of anything you’ve done, Gangrel still—’_

 _’And I don’t want to hear anything from YOU,’_ Anri snaps. _’I know you don’t care! As long as you get your body in the end, this mission is a success for you, isn’t it! I know I made a deal with the devil, but I— I ended up thinking I could make you see the good in this world! But maybe there is none! Maybe you’re right, and we’re all worthless scumbags who will never stop killing each other over the PETTIEST things because all we EVER care about is getting what we want!”_

 _’You don’t believe that,’_ Grima thinks.

 _’All I believed in is now lying dead in the middle of the desert,’_ Anri thinks. His chest aches, his head aches, everything inside him aches… He falls to his knees, for why should he bother to keep upright when he does not have to pretend to be a leader to these people? _’I lose everything I try to hold onto. I should never have tried to carry such grand hopes on my shoulders.’_

“Anri!” Nowi calls out to him. “Didn’t you hear Basilio? We’ve got to go! Right now!”

He feels his lips move of their own volition—No, it’s Grima’s volition, of course.

“I’m coming, Nowi.” Anri finds himself on his feet again, stepping forward as Grima commands. He doesn’t bother fighting. Grima might as well have his body now.

 _’No,’_ Grima thinks. _’I’m only doing this because I can’t physically carry you.’_

_’You’d be willing to carry me?’_ Anri thinks. _’Ah, I mean… Thank you.’_

 _’Don’t get too complacent,’_ Grima thinks. _’I can’t do this forever. We are in the Plegian capital. We must find a way to separate while we are here, no matter what happens.’_

 _’Okay,’_ Anri agrees.

 _’But first,’_ Grima thinks, _’We have to survive.’_


	14. Chapter 14

“Anri… I don’t think you’re in any condition to fight like this…” Robin says. “Just… follow Basilio to the carriages, okay? The others will take care of the Plegian soldiers.”

“W-What?” Anri has reluctantly taken back the reins of his body from Grima, but he is still a bit disoriented. But to suggest he sit out the battle… “No… I’m alright. I… I can still help…” 

“At this point, Mustafa’s men are only fighting out of loyalty to HIM,” Robin says. “If we take him out, everyone else will surrender. Only a few of us are going. Chrom, me, Sumia and Cordelia… I want everyone else to head for safety.”

 _’Mustafa… I remember him…’_ Anri thinks. _’One of Plegia’s strongest generals. His family lived at the castle. Everyone knew what would happen if he displeased Gangrel… I think we killed him in battle. I didn’t do it personally… I don’t know what became of his family. I don’t know what will become of them now, either.’_

 _’I doubt Gangrel will care about them anymore once they stop being leverage,’_ Grima thinks. _’If they’re smart, they’ll escape now while he’s distracted… We need to use his distraction, too. If we can just get Robin’s blood, we can sneak away from the others. I have it all planned out. We pretend to be Grimleal running to the castle for safety. You’ll cover your head; if anyone asks, you’re a priest. I’ll make you speak in tongues if I have to. They’ll leave you alone. I can do the ritual through your body. It’s about science, not magic. It doesn’t matter how long it takes us, because once I have my body, I… I can blast through anyone who tries to challenge us. And then—’_

 _’Wait!’_ Anri thinks. _’Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? We don’t HAVE Robin’s blood. What am I supposed to do, stab him with the Falchion?’_

He means it sarcastically, but Grima responds as though it was a real suggestion.

 _’No, no, I don’t know how he’ll react to that,’_ he thinks. _’Just give me a second to think… I…’_

 _’You don’t know how someone will react to getting stabbed by their own ally? BADLY, I’d say!’_ Anri thinks. _’Come on, tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t like you at all. It isn’t like this is the last time we’ll ever be in Plegia.’_

 _’No…’_ Grima thinks. _’But if we don’t separate now, it may be too late…’_

 _’What? You never told me there was a time limit!’_ Anri thinks. 

_’I didn’t think it would matter,’_ Grima thinks. _’It was only supposed to take a few days at most. When that plan changed, I still thought we would be able to get over here in time. At the very least, I thought I could always possess Validar again if I had to, unappealing as it would have been. Then he died, but as we were planning to head to Plegia, I did not worry. But now we are running away, there is no easy way to retrieve the blood that I need, and I am running out of time!’_

 _’What happens if you run out of time?’_ Anri asks.

 _’You won’t like it,’_ Grima thinks. _’I don’t have the luxury of possessing just anyone. They need to have dragon blood. The Chrom and Lissa of this world would be better off NOT helping me, Nowi would be rendered incapable of transformation if I joined her, and Robin… Well, he’s the only choice, but you’ll never forgive me.’_

 _’Well, it’s going to be hard to sell him on the idea of you destroying his world!’_ Anri thinks. _’You don’t have the same leverage over anyone here as you do over me… So I suppose when Robin says no, you’ll just attack him like you did before, huh? You’re damn right I don’t like that!’_

 _’No, I…’_ Grima actually sounds scared. _’I don’t know why, but he was able to push me out on his own last time. He’s so much less powerful than I am now, and yet…’_

 _’So then what, you’re stuck with me forever?’_ Anri asks.

 _’No, THEN I will DIE,’_ Grima snaps. _’I cannot exist as a mere spirit for long. My soul will fall into slumber, and with no one left to awaken me again, I will sleep until someday, thousands of years from now, my spirit finally fades from this world.’_

 _’... How long do we have?’_ Anri asks. They’ll think of something. They have to, or else Grima will die… And then he wouldn’t be able to bring Robin back. That’s all Anri is worried about, right?

 _’Technically, until YOU die,’_ Grima thinks. _’And make no mistake, your body cannot stand my power for much longer. Maybe a few months. Less if you force me to operate your body for you again. But I have sworn that nothing will happen to you, and I will keep my word on THAT. I will leave you before I do you irreparable harm.’_

 _’I… I’ll make sure you wake up again,’_ Anri thinks. _’I don’t know how, but… I’ll figure it out if it comes to it. It might not come to it. We still have months left, so... ‘_

 _’... That isn’t how I thought you would respond,’_ Grima thinks. _’Don’t you hate me? I manipulated you into coming to this world, I’m slowly killing you, and now I might completely abandon you. I truly expected to feel your ire. Are you simply too tired? You are in shock from grief yet again…’_

 _’I am not quite my usual self, it is true…’_ Anri thinks. _’But Grima, did you hear what you just told me? You said that you would save my life… How am I supposed to yell at you for that? It’s hard to comprehend… I don’t understand why you wouldn’t use up every last drop of life from me. I am but a single human… I am selfish and vengeful and everything you hate. What am I worth to you, anyway? Why protect my life at your expense?’_

 _’... I could not bear the consequences of telling you everything,’_ Grima says. _’But I will say one thing. Humanity is sick. You know it as well as I do. The only way to deal with it is to destroy the sickness… or to heal it. If I am not there to do the former, then you must live to do the latter. Swear to me… You must do something to fix what has gone wrong in the world.’_

 _’You know that is what I want to do. But…’_ Anri thinks. _’How? When I’m not even capable of…’_

“Anri! By the GODS, are you even listening to me?” Robin asks.

“Er… Not really,” Anri says. “I’m sorry.”

“I have my hands full enough with Chrom!” Robin exclaims. “I can’t deal with you, too!”

“... Right,” Anri says. “I’m sorry. I…”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” Robin groans. “It’s only that I’m having the WORST day of my life and I am NOT about to see it get worse! So please… I know I’ve let everyone down today already, but… let me save my friends, at least.”

“Robin, you haven’t let anyone down,” Anri says. “It pains me to be so useless, but… If your order is to flee with the others, I shall go.”

“You aren’t being useless,” Robin says. “This is a huge relief to me. I promise that we’ll join you soon, okay? Go quickly.”

“Stay safe,” Anri says.

Robin isn’t lying. By the time everyone has settled into the carriages, Chrom and Robin are already returning, carried by Sumia and Cordelia on their pegasi. The Plegian soldiers truly had no spirit with which to fight. Mustafa died a quick, honorable death, praying with his last words that Chrom would spare his men. And so they left, no further bloodshed required.

It’s a stroke of good fortune. But what is truly miraculous is that it doesn’t end there. All across Plegia, people throw down their weapons. They defy their king. They refuse to continue the fight.

Emmeryn’s words have touched their hearts.

Anri understands it now, even amidst his heartache. His sister’s words have always held tremendous power, but they were always saved for her own people. But the Plegians, too, are people like any other, prone to the same suffering she brought Ylisse away from. For centuries, Ylisseans and Plegians have been fighting each other in a cycle that could only end in destruction… or healing.

Emmeryn refused to carry on the fight, refused to curse Plegia in her final moments, refused to revive the spite that had been Ylissean custom before her. She offered them another path. And they took it.

Years of future war were lost in an instant that day. Anri has never been even half the leader she was.

 _’You are not her. But you have taken up her ideals,’_ Grima thinks. _’I can see what you’ve been trying to tell me all along… I thought that only monsters could survive in this world. But that was just a monster’s justification for its own unforgivable actions. Humans are waiting for a leader who will show them how to create the better world they long for. If anyone can do that, it is you.’_

 _’Grima…’_ Anri thinks. _’Then you… You no longer wish to bring the world to an end.’_

 _’I do not,’_ Grima agrees. _’I… have made peace with the thought that I must die.’_

 _’What?’_ Anri thinks. _’Is THAT why you’ve stopped obsessing about Robin’s blood? Because you’ve given up on trying to get a body?’_

 _’It isn’t fair to you, I know,’_ Grima thinks. _’Though you aren’t stuck in this world. I am sure that you have enough power to open a gateway back on your own, even without my guidance. Granted, you will have to go back without Robin, but… All he ever wanted was for you to live. I promise you that he is happy now, knowing that the world will be in good hands.’_

 _’Stop that!’_ Anri demands. _’Just because you’re not going to destroy the world doesn’t mean you have to DIE! Those aren’t the only things you can do! You’re on my side now, aren’t you? I don’t want to heal the world alone! I want you there with me!’_

 _’You’re too kind,’_ Grima thinks. _’You should be celebrating the fell dragon’s final defeat, not asking me to stay around.’_

 _’I know the villain from my history books has been soundly vanquished at this point,’_ Anri thinks. _’But YOU are my ally. You cannot expect me to accept your loss like it is a good thing!’_

 _’Seeing as I’ve recently decided that I do not wish for the suffering of all humans,’_ Grima thinks. _’I would rather you think of it as a good thing.’_

 _’Well, I can’t!’_ Anri insists. _’Besides, did you even consider the obvious? If you aren’t going to destroy the world, there’s no reason for anyone NOT to help you! If we just ASK Robin, I’m sure he’ll agree.’_

 _’… Fine. If it is that important to you, we can ask,’_ Grima agrees reluctantly. _’It seems we will be back in the Plegian capital very soon, anyway.’_

It’s true. Not long after escaping Plegia’s heart, the Shepherds find themselves heading right back. This time, they are met with virtually no opposition. Everyone longs for the same end: peace at last.

 _’I still want that bastard to suffer for what he’s done,’_ Anri admits

 _’You do not have to explain yourself to ME,’_ Grima thinks.

The final battle is nigh.


	15. Chapter 15

“Milord, I have a message for you,” Frederick says. “Khan Flavia reports that the Plegian army is in disarray, just as we’ve heard. Outside of a few faithful who serve him directly, his army has all but collapsed. And on that note…”

A familiar face walks into the Shepherds’ meeting.

“Aversa?” Anri blurts out. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, Anri,” Aversa greets. “Returning a favor, I suppose. But at the same time, asking for another one.”

“She claims she wants to lend us her aid,” Frederick says. “Milord… I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that this is Gangrel’s second-in-command.”

“FORMER second-in-command,” Aversa corrects.

“I’ll hear what she has to say,” Chrom says.

“How gracious,” Aversa says drily. Shaking her head, she continues. “I don’t have time to explain to you how deep corruption runs in Plegia, or how deeply we have all been deceived. I can only tell you the truth that I have seen: I was a puppet on a string. King Gangrel, too, is caught up in a web of lies. Some threads he has spun on his own, and some he has been tricked into wrapping himself into. I want to help you free my countrymen from the prison that Plegia has become. All I ask is that you allow me to talk to Gangrel before you kill him.”

“You think you can reason with him?” Chrom scoffs. “If he were willing to listen at ANY time in his LIFE, my sister would never have died!”

“Chrom, wait,” Robin says. “What’s the harm, really? If he doesn’t listen, we kill him just as we planned.”

“I am not doing this to save him,” Aversa says. “Nor am I trying to save myself, for that matter. Puppets or no, we have wrought terrible atrocities. Nothing will unwork that evil. I simply want to offer him the truth before he throws everything away on a pack of lies.”

“Well…” Chrom looks at Robin. The two exchange looks in a conversation that no one else but Anri can follow. Chrom’s look says “Are we really going to put up with this?” Robin’s glance says “I think we should, but I’M not the leader.” Chrom’s frown says “You’re always right and I damn well know it,” and then…

“Alright, Aversa,” Chrom says. “I’ve seen you fight. You’ll be a welcome ally. And maybe, MAYBE, seeing his own second-in-command turn against him will knock whatever sense that man ever had back into him.”

But whatever half-hearted hopes anyone may have had are quickly dashed. Gangrel awaits them on the battlefield, surrounded only by the few people who still see something in him worth dying for, and all he does is cackle like he rules the world.

“Good day, my little princeling!” he mocks. “Still dreaming of your squashed sister?”

His words are clearly meant to make Chrom do something stupid. Hell, Anri would love to do something stupid himself right now.

But clenched fists aside, Chrom remains calm.

“No more talk, Gangrel,” he says. “Today peace returns to Ylisse and Plegia. Over your dead body, if that’s what it takes.”

“Pah! Such hypocrisy!” Gangrel spits. “You despise me, wretch! You want to cut me down! You don't know the first thing about peace. No man does!”

“I know more than you ever will,” Chrom says.

More than me? More than ME?!” Gangrel laughs. “You ARE me! When life asks you a question, you answer with blood!”

“Maybe you're right… I will never be my sister. I cannot forgive men like you—men who sow nothing but evil. All I have left are her words, and her memory,” Chrom says. “Were I alone, I might be driven to madness… Or worse. But I'm not alone. My friends and brothers-in-arms stand behind me.”

“Are you done? May I vomit now?” Gangrel cackles again. “What a flowery harangue! Men are beasts! Nothing more! We fight! We kill! We devour our prey! Beasts do not stand behind beasts, little prince… They use each other only so long as it suits their own selfish purpose!”

“Gangrel, stop,” Aversa says, stepping forward. “These beliefs are not your own. Don’t you see how you’re parroting the teachings of the Grimleal? The very group that has led our country to ruin?”

“YOU? And here I thought you must have died… But I see you’re just as craven as the rest!” Gangrel says. “Just what gibberish are you spluttering now? Speaking out against the Grimleal? You, their little darling? You know I’ve never given a damn about what your masters think.”

“I know you don’t care anything for the faith,” Aversa says. “But somewhere amidst all your lip service, you’ve become addicted to their ideals! You serve them as much as I ever did… but I have woken up from the nightmare! Will you not step down from your false pedestal and join me in revealing the truth? Or would you like to die a martyr for a cause that isn’t yours?”

“Bah! Stop chattering! The Grimleal have nothing to do with me, and they can’t do a thing about me!” Gangrel insists. “I’ve done more for this country than anyone else in history! No longer will we be sorry curs, but hounds of war!”

“Gangrel... “ Aversa shakes her head. “You damn fool.”

“Enough,” Chrom says, raising his hand. “I’ve given you your last chance, Gangrel, as my sister would have done. But words can accomplish nothing more here. You are a poison. A festering wound. And I will do what my sister could not.”

“Such a clever tongue you have, little prince,” Gangrel sneers. “It will look quite fetching hanging on my mantle, next to your sister's corpse!”

 _’Witness now the ultimate consequences of my beliefs,’_ Grima thinks. _’He only pollutes the world further.’_

 _’They aren’t your beliefs anymore,’_ Anri thinks. _’If even gods can change their ways, I’m beyond mercy for a man who’s had a thousand opportunities to choose peace.’_

This battle is a far cry from any that Anri fought in his world. His war was for revenge, and he won. This war is for peace, and it will be a victory for all.

 _’I had thought I came to this world and made it worse,’_ Anri thinks. _’When actually, it has made ME better. What I was doing… It would have come back to bite me eventually. We could have had peace years sooner, but I was angry. I started to lose sight of what I was fighting for to begin with. I was a part of the very cycle I’ve always wanted to break… But I am no longer that man. I will never shake off the weight of my failures from my shoulders. But all I can do, what I WILL do, is come back to my people a better leader. I will not stop until I build a peaceful world for us all.’_

 _’Spoken like a hero of legend,’_ Grima thinks, amused. _’You know, If the truth about the two of us were known, your praises would be sung higher even than those of the real Anri.’_

 _’That’s awful to think about,’_ Anri thinks. _’I certainly have not done anything heroic.’_

 _’So claimed all the heroes,’_ Grima thinks. _’Anri, surely. And the first exalt, the hero king… Shall I go on?’_

 _’We are in the middle of a battlefield!’_ Anri protests, though he can not pretend the sound of Grima’s laughter ringing in his mind does not fill him with warmth.

Soon, the Shepherds have cleared out the Plegian soldiers. Only the Mad King remains. 

“This is it,” Chrom says. “Now I will end this once and for all.”

“I’m coming with you,” Robin insists. “I don’t trust him not to have some trick still hidden up his sleeve.”

“Alright…” Chrom says, his gaze softening. “Who am I to fight without the sword at my side?”

Anri wants to protest. Things may be going better this time around, but that doesn’t mean the two of them should be taking risks. He ought to go up there, fight in their stead like he did in Ferox…

But he can’t. Physically, mentally, he can’t. He is exhausted, despite the relatively small share of the fighting he did. He’s more than a little winded, to the point where he fears his legs could fall out from under him like they did the day he lost Emmeryn for the second time. There’s a headache pounding at his brain, and he knows he NEEDS to rest. He will ask for Robin’s help soon, and maybe then this will stop happening to him, but until that time… 

_’It is their fight, anyway,’_ Grima thinks _’They have to be the ones to win it.’_

So they go. Chrom and Robin, the perfect partners. 

Anri’s heart aches as he watches them. 

He is too far away to hear Gangrel’s taunts, but he knows the man must be saying anything he can think of to enrage Chrom. A cheap tactic, and his favored one, but Anri knows all too well that it is effective.

But Chrom and Robin are fully prepared. Steel and lightning strike one after another so quickly that Gangrel cannot possibly counter them both. The two of them no doubt spent weeks planning this together. Chrom’s resolve is steeled in this fight; he doesn’t make the same mistakes that Anri did in his own ill-fated struggle against the Mad King. Robin doesn’t have to cover for his mistakes, doesn’t have to make any sacrifices this time. The King of Plegia goes down, and he stays down.

The war is won.

The Shepherds turn to each other, excited and exhausted in one. But Anri continues to watch Robin with his other self. He watches as Robin presses himself to Chrom’s chest, as he wraps his arms around Chrom’s neck, as Chrom murmurs something into his ear, and as their lips meet more than briefly.

Anri’s heart continues to ache, but he’s happy for them, really. He feels light.

… The wrong kind of light. Lightheaded?

 _’What? No, you’re…’_ Grima is scared. _’You’re fine! Stop that…’_

Anri feels like something is crawling up his throat. He coughs, but the feeling doesn’t stop. He coughs again. He retches.

“Anri?” Lissa cries out. “Are you okay?”

He’s not sure what to say. He hasn’t felt this way before. He doesn’t know what the hell could be wrong with him.

 _’Oh yes you do,’_ Grima thinks. _’Damn it.. It’s my fault… After everything…’_

That can’t be right. His legs give way, but it’s fine. He can get back up. He tries, anyway. 

“Oh gods, I don’t know what this is!” Lissa says. “Um… M-Maribelle, Libra, can you come here for a minute?”

 _’No… You’re not fine. This has gone on too long,’_ Grima thinks. _’I will protect you whether you like it or not… Even if I have to…’_

“Is he coughing up blood?” someone says, but it’s distant. Anri screw his eyes shut. “It doesn’t LOOK like blood, though.”

 _’’Stay with me, Grima,’_ Anri thinks. _’I’ll be okay. We’ll get you your body and I’ll be okay. Just... Don’t do anything stupid while I’m passed out.’_

“It kind of resembles dark magic, but I’ve never seen anything like it. Do you think he was hit by a curse?”

 _’And what if you don’t wake up?’_ Grima thinks. _’No… I won’t risk your life now… Hate me if you will, but…’_

Anri gasps. It’s like gravity has suddenly ceased to exist. He thinks he’s still on the ground, but he might as well be floating. And he doesn’t like it.

 _’Grima, you’re still there, right…?’_ he thinks. But he gets no response.

Panic sets in. This can’t be how things end! He has to bring Grima home with him! 

“Come back!” he shouts. “I’m fine! Please come back!”

“Anri, it’s okay! We’re all right here!”

How is he supposed to tell them what’s going on? The pressure gone from his body seems to be building up in his head. This isn’t something he can fight off.

“Don’t leave me…” he begs. “Not you, too…”

Does everyone he cares about have to die for him? Is he really that cursed?

He can’t take it anymore. There’s no point in struggling against himself when it won’t make Grima come back.

He falls unconscious.


	16. Chapter 16

When Anri starts coming to again, he can feel that he is in a bed. That means he isn’t lying dead on the ground, which is surely a good thing. But it also means that he’s going to have to deal with healers fawning over him, and that’s the last thing he wants right now.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now,” a familiar voice says. “If it wasn’t obvious before, it certainly was when your breath just hitched.”

“R-Robin…?” Anri asks.

“Well…”

Anri blinks open his eyes. Robin is standing at the edge of the bed. Only… Robin’s eyes are golden, not bright red.

“Grima?” Anri exclaims.

“Yes…” Grima says. “I—”

“How dare you!” Anri cries, lurching forward. “I… I thought you… ”

He catches Grima’s hands in his own. Well, they’re Robin’s hands, but he knows Grima can feel it.”

“I know, I know…” Grima says, looking down. “You thought I was so set on dying that I’d forget about my other options. I admit I considered it. I still think it would have been for the best. But I… I couldn’t do something like that to you again.”

“Again?” Anri asks.

“... There’s something I have to tell you,” Grima says. He slips his hands away. “You may want to lie back down.”

“Are you going to tell me more of your secrets?” Anri asks. 

“Yes…” Grima says. “The worst of them all, perhaps.”

“In that case, you have my full attention,” Anri says. He sits where he is. He can see Grima’s eyes well from this position. They’re wide with fear. At least, he assumes it’s Grima’s fear and not Robin’s. There’s no way for him to be sure, but he smiles reassuringly anyway. “You can trust me.”

Grima sighs.

“First…” he says. “Before you get the wrong idea, Robin, this Robin, is fine. I’m dominating his body at the moment, but for some reason, our souls… Well, they aren’t compatible to merge. I suppose they never were.”

“Merging?” Anri echoes. “As in, you two would have turned into one person if that had happened?”

“Something like that,” Grima says. “It’s hard to know the particulars, given that it didn’t work as I thought, but… It doesn’t matter now. I am merely borrowing this body until I create another. It shouldn’t take long, now that I have access to a more or less infinite supply of this blood.”

“Okay…” Anri says. “That’s not much of a secret.”

“Right,” Grima agrees. “I’m getting to it. Er… The thing is, the nature of souls is that it is very difficult to call them back to life. I told you that without a body, my soul would slumber until it faded. Because I am a dragon, that would take thousands and thousands of years. Humans, on the other hand, tend to fade away within months… perhaps a year at most. Powerful magic can wake a spirit, but even a god can’t bring back what has already been lost…”

“Oh…” Anri understands what he’s saying. “You mean, my Robin… You were never going to bring him back, were you…”

That hurts. Granted, this was before Grima had his life-altering change in perspective… It was a manipulation tactic. Of course he had considered the possibility that he was being lied to. And yet, in the end, he really had believed that Grima would keep that promise… 

“I’m sorry for deceiving you so terribly…” Grima says, closing his eyes. “However, I’m not finished.”

“Get on with it, then,” Anri says tiredly. Maybe he should have taken Grima’s advice about lying back down after all.

“I deceived you into believing that I could bring Robin back from the dead for you,” Grima says. “But the truth is, his spirit was never actually gone. Or rather… MY spirit wasn’t.”

“… What?” Anri doesn’t understand. “YOUR spirit? But you aren’t…”

“But I am,” Grima says. He opens his eyes. They are still red, not golden. But they are also filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry. I know you suffered over me. But how was I supposed to tell you that your tactician had suddenly turned into a monster? A monster that had already tried to destroy humanity long, long before you ever existed to give him pause.”

“But… HOW?” Anri asks. “Humans don’t just turn into dragons!”

“Of course they don’t,” Grima says. “I… I’ve been the fell dragon since the day I was born…”

“All along?” Anri shakes his head. “But you never… You never acted like you hated humanity!”

“I didn’t remember that part,” Grima says.“You don’t know the half of the Grimleal’s convoluted plans. Ever since I was sealed away, they’ve been trying to free me. First, they needed a vessel that could contain my soul and my power. And after a thousand years, the Fire Emblem’s original seal was weakened enough for their rituals to work. A child was born with the fell dragon’s heart and soul. But given my mind was a blank state, they ran into some difficulties. My mother stole me away. I never knew that I was the reincarnation of Plegia’s god… I never would have known had I not died. It turns out that death has a certain way of revealing the truth… Because Validar was around at the time—we never had the opportunity to kill him in our world—and because I suppose losing the newly reborn fell dragon would have made him the worst leader the Grimleal ever had, he quickly offered his body as a temporary vessel. But try as we did, we could not create a new body for me with only his dilute fell blood. So I came up with a plan. I would go to some other world, merge with my other self, and take my revenge there… Humans are the same in every world, after all.”

“But then it didn’t work,” Anri says.

“It didn’t work,” Grima agrees. “And I can’t tell you how glad I am. Because it forced me to stay with you, and look around again. I… I never WANTED destruction to be the solution. I just couldn’t see any other way. Even when I thought I was a simple human, fighting next to you, I wondered… I wanted the world to be better, but it didn’t seem like anything we were doing was helping. I feared maybe there wasn’t a way to find peace at all. I thought perhaps we would be fighting that war for the rest of our lives. Then I remembered my past life, and… it just seemed like I was right all along.”

“Sorry…” Anri says. “I guess I failed you more than I realized.”

“You…” Grima shakes his head, “You’d really apologize to me. After I’ve just confessed how I kept you in the dark all this time. Unbelievable. Should I remind you of every time I used my own name to threaten you? How I treated you like my servant? All I’ve done is be cruel to you.”

“And yet you opened up to me, you aided me at every turn, and you protected me no matter the cost,” Anri counters. “I know what we’ve been through. If you’re trying to make me say that I hate you, give up now. You’ll never get it out of me. I could never mean it. You do realize that I’m hopelessly in love with you, don’t you?”

He smiles, but it only makes Grima cover his face with his hands.

“But you aren’t!” he cries in anguish. “You’re in love with the man you thought I was. But I’m not… I… I can never go back to how I used to be…”

“Hey…” Anri stands up. “No… Look at me… You don’t understand.”

Grima removes his hands from his face, but only so he can fidget with his coat. 

“I do love you. I can’t imagine the world without you,” Anri says, caressing Grima’s cheek. “You can’t blame me for not being in love with you because I was too busy being in love with you,”

“… I’m the fell dragon, and you love me?” Grima asks, gaze flickering uncomprehendingly to Anri’s hand.

“Hopelessly,” Anri says, smiling again.

“You’re unbelievable,” Grima laughs breathlessly. “I wish I was still in that head of yours…” 

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it,” Anri says. “The only question in my mind is… Grima, after all this time… Do you love ME?”

“You have to ask?” Grima laughs again. “It’s an understatement to say you’re worth the entire world to me.”

“Grima…” If Anri were to smile any wider, he thinks he’d break his face. “Will you stay by my side forever? I know the two of us can bring the world to a bright new future.”

“Okay,” Grima says. And he smiles. And Anri is dazzled.

Slowly, he presses his lips to Grima’s. It feels like a dream to have the love of his life here with him. He’s afraid to go too quickly, lest it all turn out to truly be nothing but the wildest of his dreams.

But Grima is impatient. He deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Anri’s neck. They have to break for breath, but even that is too long for Grima, who lets out a growl.

“I’ll kiss you as many times as you need, too,” Anri says. “You don’t have to rush.”

“We’ve been in this world for over a year now. That makes two years I haven’t been able to touch you,” Grima says. “Someone will interrupt us eventually. I want my fill first.”

They give it a good run, but someone does indeed interrupt them after a while. That someone is Chrom, who happens to walk in while their lips are still locked.

“Er… Oh, hell…” Anri says. It occurs to him that this looks a lot like he’s making out with Robin, who is presumably quite together with Chrom judging by their victory kiss. “I can explain,” he says.

“He was there when I possessed Robin. He’s aware of the situation,” Grima says, completely unapologetic.

“Oh… So how much did you tell him?” Anri asks. “About us being…?”

“Not THAT much,” Grima says.

“Very little at all, actually,” Chrom says. “Your… friend… was possessing you. You became ill as your body tried to expel him. Now he’s possessed Robin to save you. He knows how to create a new body for himself, but he refuses to explain how that’s possible. And… Robin supposedly agreed to all this… Is that the gist?”

“Yes,” Grima says.

“Grima, we have to tell him the truth,” Anri says. “About everything. We can’t leave without them ever knowing.”

“… Fine,” Grima agrees. “Our story could have been theirs, after all.”

“I confess I’ve spent considerable time pondering your mysterious identity, Anri,” Chrom says. “I look forward to knowing the truth.”

“I warn you, it is stranger than anything you could have imagined,” Anri says. “But I have to admit it feels good to uncover this again after so long…”

His Brand, kept constantly under armor or cloth since his arrival in this world, once again sees the light of day.

“I knew it,” Chrom says. “I knew the family resemblance was no mere coincidence. And yet… How odd it is for your Brand to appear in the exact same place as mine…”

“It isn’t odd at all,” Anri says. “For I do not belong to your world. In the time and place I am from, I go by my true name: Exalt Chrom of Ylisse… And Grima, my partner, is the counterpart to your Robin.”

“But… How could that be possible?” Chrom asks.

And so Anri tells his tale of grief and anger. Of what it takes to grow from it all. Grima tells his tale of long-told lies and hard-earned truths. Of what it takes to learn to hope again.

“This is indeed far beyond anything my imagination could conjure,” Chrom says when it is all laid plain. “To think I would meet my own future self…”

“But your future won’t come to pass this way,” Anri says. “You and I are different men. My hope in saying all this is only that you might learn from the mistakes I’ve made without having to live them out.”

“I will try,” Chrom says. “I never wanted to be in a situation like this… It brings me no pleasure to be taking up the position of exalt… But I will make the same promise you have. I will find a way to bring peace to the people of this world.”

“You won’t be alone,” Grima says. “Robin vows to stand beside you until the end.”

“Thank you, Robin.” Chrom says, smiling. “… Er, and exactly how long are the two of you going to have to share a body?”

“Now that Anri is awake, I can stop watching over him every second,” Grima says. “So I will prepare the ritual at once.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Chrom asks. 

“Stay out of the way,” Grima says. “You do not know the ancient craft of alchemy, as well you shouldn’t.”

“What about me?” Anri asks. “You were already planning to let me help you, were you not?”

“YOU need to let the healers check you,” Grima says. “Maribelle kept screaming that I was unqualified. I believe Libra was contemplating the use of force. But you know I do not easily back down. This does not fall within my gruesome reputation, but what god does not know how to heal?”

“In other words, you want to leave before they can yell at you again,” Anri says. “And I am the distraction that permits your exit.”

“A sound strategy,” Grima says, taking Anri’s hand. “Yet, I… I will miss you, though it will only be for a short time. To be away from you after our souls were so entwined…”

“Go get your body, Grima,” Anri says, squeezing Grima’s fingers. “Then I will hold onto you and never let go.”

And when Grima returns, identical to Robin beside him in every way except the eyes, Anri embraces him with all the strength he has.


	17. Chapter 17

“So here it is… The Outrealm Gate,” Chrom says. “And you’re sure you can navigate it on your own?”

“Yes,” Grima says. “The gate will take heed of my will.”

“Not many people know how to work it,” one of the many merchants called Anna says, crossing her arms. “That’s what makes it such a lucrative deal for me! You’re not planning to go around telling everyone how it works, are you?”

“No. I have no intention of sharing this knowledge with the masses,” Grima says. “Nor do I intend to make such a trip twice. It is simply much easier than forcing a gateway to open through magic.”

“Validar died getting us here,” Anri says. “Speaking of which… How are we going to explain what happened? And how you’re alive?”

“We’ll say that he saved me from the brink of death, and then traded his life to bring me back to consciousness,” Grima says. “And that there was nothing you could have done about it. The man was too far gone.”

“Validar…” Robin murmurs. “His actions have shaped so much of my life, and yet I never met him myself.”

“You’re the fortunate one,” Grima says. “But I fear the consequences of his actions—the consequences of a thousand years of Grimleal plotting—will haunt you endlessly in your search for peace. Plegia was founded on the worship of the fell dragon, on the promotion of ideals that could only lead to ruin. For all I hate everything they do, I realize now that it is all I ever taught them.”

“I understand,” Robin says. “I don’t have the memories of the past that you do. I don’t want them. But that doesn’t mean I won’t take responsibility. It is time we both set a better example. After all, if the two of us can change, anyone can.”

“I’m sorry to see you leave us,” Chrom says. “We could perhaps accomplish even more were we to combine our efforts. But your people need you, as ours need us. And so, instead of a sad farewell, I instead offer you my greatest hope: should our paths ever cross again, may it be in a better world.”

He holds out his hand. Smiling, Anri takes it.

“Take care, Chrom,” he says. “I wish you and all the Shepherds the best.”

He steps back. Next to the Outrealm Gate, Grima is waiting for him.

“Hold onto me,” Grima says.

It’s for the sake of the travel, of course, but Anri isn’t complaining.

The trip is nothing like their previous one. One second, they are walking through the gate, and the next, they are in front of Plegia’s castle. No passing out required.

“Here we are,” Grima says. “Right at the moment we left.”

“Finally,” Anri—or rather, Chrom, for he no longer needs to pretend—smiles as he squeezes the love of his life’s hand. “We’re home.”


End file.
